Spindle: A Tale
by Anodythe
Summary: Who is this femme and what caused the animosity she has for the Autobots? Carrying her wounds as trophy's, can this anger-filled, sharp-"tongued" femme find a place with NEST and her fellow Cybertronians? OC-centric; begins just before ROTF.
1. Chapter 1

Oh, we all know who owns Transformers. I'm sure they won't mind if a few of us write some stories about them. After all, what good is owning a franchise if you keep it all to yourself.

The following started as a humorous entry to a thread on TFW2005. I decided to make up a most improbable femm with a mountain bike alt-mode. But dang if she didn't decide that she wanted to be fleshed...er...metaled out. It started as a what-if while I was driving home from work and has gradually grown to more then I had planned. Well, I hope it grows on you all. Many thanks for reading. Updates will be periodoc...

**Spindle, a tale**

**Chapter 1**

"Well, well, well, lookie here at the little 'Con." The voice seemingly arose out of nowhere.

Alice looked around, slowly taking in her surroundings. There was no one of any significance close to her. Stopped at the bottom of the library steps, she could see few students out and about at this early hour. There was no one hiding in the shrubbery, or around the building's doors. The only other person nearby was a short, overweight, middle-aged female sitting on the edge of the fountain reading a paperback and bobbing and weaving to music playing from an old Walkman plugged into her ears.

A scan of Alice's recent memory additions concerning the school gave her the female's name and title: Dr. Esmee Indel, currently on loan from the archeology department of the Smithsonian Institution. She was allegedly some sort of super-important guest lecturer here to explain this planet's past to these inane fleshies.

Waste of time really. When the Decepticons finally conquer this planet, humans will be history and there will be no one interested in a dead race.

A scan of the area brought no answers either, but Alice remained wary. While there were not many, the Autobots also had infiltrators - "Pretenders" - just as the Decepticons had. They were smaller, faster, and nastier than normal Cybertronians, the Decepticon Pretenders anyway. With the technological ability to form and reform organic nanites over their robotic bodies, they could pass themselves off as nearly any organic creature as she had done is her guise as "Alice."

Alice turned her attention back to her mission. The college had offered a month-long preparatory course for incoming freshman and she had hoped that the Autobots' pet human might attend. Unfortunately, he had been a no-show, so she was forced to endure the rather primitive university system laughing referred to as higher education.

In her current form, that of a shapely, blond college student, she was assigned to monitor and influence the human Sam Witwicky while he attended the school. Since freshman weren't allowed to bring cars to campus, she knew that he would be without his Autobot guardian, Bumble Bee. This might allow her to become a "close" friend, even though the stink of Autobot energy was undoubtedly leaking from every pore of his fleshy frame.

"Pit," she thought. "Can't wait until those slaggin' Autobots are all scrap beneath our servos! The voice must have been Starscream or Soundwave bleeding over on a private transmission. Slag them both."

With that thought, she climbed the stairs and entered the library doors. There was plenty of time and a plethora of gullible human males to tease. Had she taken the time to look, she would have seen the short female glide past the bottom of the stairs on a small motorized bike and disappear into the darker walkways of the campus.

Two days later, while walking through the Student Union, Alice heard the same voice. Only this time it was over her private trans-line. No one but Soundwave or Megatron could connect to her using that line. But then there was something about that voice.

She rifled through her memory cache and could only summon up a ghost memory. She found nothing of any real substance, but she was still plagued with doubts. Perhaps the Autobots had perfected a stealthier infiltrator. Casting about with heightened senses, she detected no robotic signals, Autobot or Decepticon. Only…there was that overweight female again. This time she had plopped herself down into one of the overstuffed chairs in the lounge. Again, she was reading and plugged into that obsolete piece of human technology.

The woman looked her way, but did not notice Alice staring at her. She seemed impatient. Her fingers were drumming on the arm of the chair, presumably in time to whatever drivel middle-aged females listened to. Alice looked closer and found herself transfixed by the complicated cadence this woman tapped out. Faster and faster, the fingers struck the chair in time to what must have been a percussion-laden composition. Then they stopped. The woman's fingers ended their relentless drumming. She stood, walked to a far doorway and stepped into the evening air.

Alice shook her head to clear her confused processor. "Humans," she thought derisively. "Even the intelligent ones have oddities that Megatron would not stand." She shook her head once again as fellow students from her dormitory called to her wanting her to choose one of them as her exclusive companion.

"Well, if I can't tear apart Autobots yet", she thought, "I'll have to make do with completely playing these human fools." She smiled and waved her best college-girl wave and strolled over to her amusing victims.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Morning, Fury. Been a while, hasn't it?"

The words caught the Pretender by surprise and she turned toward the origin of the voice.

It was the human female, again. She stared knowingly at Alice, her head cocked to one side and her hands clasped in front of her.

"…Say wha…I …do I…wait. Haven't I seen you around ...ARE YOU FOLLOWING ME?"

"Um-huh! It's been fun. What a social calendar you have. I never thought Decepticons went for the party scene."

"Decep…what? What are you talking about?"

"Oh dear, you've forgotten me haven't you? And only after 60,000 vorns…tsk!" The human female shook her head in mock pity. "Why youngling, you've gone completely white…not your color really."

"*Spindle!*"

"You remember! How nice. So, wanna do it here or take it elsewhere?" The human-form called Spindle cocked her head to the other side, her grin widening as she closed the distance between her and Alice.

"You…you were dead at Tyrest." Alice began to tremble slightly. "I saw Frenzy picking your carcass."

"Oh that, well he tried…slaggin' half-spark. He didn't tell you that when he got to my spark casing he flat-lined because of the power surge. Booby trapped. Pretty funny really. Wish I could have seen it. Jazz told me he literally fell to pieces. And you, dear," she tilted Alice's chin up with the tip of a finger, "what have you been doing in the mean time? Squeegeeing Shockwave's optic, or are you still picking turbo-rats out of Skywarp's thrusters? Or…ah yes… you must be in line to change Ravage's litter box. What an honor."

"You tin-plated, micro-processor slag-fume. I will tear you apart even slower than Frenzy di… Ow…ow ow ow…my hair!"

"Oooo, nice and secure." Spindle said as she yanked the hank of hair with each word. Pulling the unwilling 'Con through the densely planted bushes, she managed to relocate their "reunion" behind the Sciences building.

"I am going to enjoy striping every nanite from your disgusting Decepticon frame. I may even use the remains as a wall decoration…in the women's rest room!"

"Autobot filth…"

"Oh, I don't wear the brand dear. Never have, never will."

"Doesn't matter. If you're not a Decepticon, then you're the enemy."

"Ah, Megs always liked the femmes loyal and dumb. Be glad you had a skill he needed, or you'd have joined the others in the smelting pool…or worse."

"You will never stop us, you sorry excuse for a progenitor."

Spindle's eyes flared bright green.

Alice grinned. "Oh, I hit a nerve, didn't I? I nearly spit up my reserve tank laughing so hard when I heard about your spar-"

Spindle grasped Alice's throat. "You will find that baiting me is not a very wise act. Action now would be a bit premature and I like things in their natural order. Let's see…we found the All-Spark, off-lined Megatron, next would be annihilate the Decepticon army, revive Cybertron…yeah, that seems to be the proper order of things. Oh, heh…oops! I did forget one small detail…exterminate you."

A campus security guard rounded the corner of the building near the two adversaries. Spindle released Fury's throat with a quick push.

"OK, Alice, think we can get it this intense for class next period? I'd hate for this performance to be unseen after all the hard work we put in it."

"Uh...Oh sure." 

"I am honored that you would ask me to help with your project on bad dating techniques. Let's hope we can convey the same feeling for the audience."

"Ah yes, Dr. Indle. Thanks so much for accepting the part on such short notice," Alice quickly interjected, smiling ever so salaciously at the guard. He nodded back with a wolfish grin and continued past the two.

"This is far from over, Autobot wanna-be."

"Count on it, slag-bait." Spindle called over her shoulder as they went their separate ways.

A silent signal alerted Spindle to an incoming transmission. After relaying the password she downloaded and opened the message. It simply said, "Recall."  
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	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Sgt. Thomas Billings was out of his mind with joy when he learned of his assignment to the new super-secret outpost somewhere in the Indian Ocean. The British military had combined with the United States to form a new kind of military unit called N.E.S.T. (Networked Elements, Supporters and Transformers). It was said that along with American troops he would also be training with aliens from outer space. Outer space; sounded like a cheap Sci-Fi novel, but his commander assured him that they, the aliens, were real.

It had taken him one month to overcome his apprehension serving along side such large aliens. The idea of being squashed by their rather large feet…"stabilizing servos" he corrected himself… gave him the willies every time he heard the familiar transforming sound. By the end of the month, however, he was able to keep an easy gait while walking through the base on Diego Garcia, nimbly avoiding even the abrupt changes from the young twins, Mudflap and Skids. He was particularly fond of his assignment with the gruff Weapons Specialist, Ironhide.

Ironhide was a careful and meticulous mech when it came to weapons and security. Billings learned quickly from him how to insert his men and machines before raids on Decepticon locations. He had even earned the guarded respect of Air Force Chief Master Sergeant Epps, who was a kindred spirit to Ironhide when it came to weapons and their upgrades. Together, he and his men formed the evening scouting and recon patrol.

Tonight's patrol was supposed to be a cakewalk. Nothing had disturbed the secure shoreline and the only thing that had come through the airspace was the normal C-5 re-supply flight. More baked beans for breakfast, he thought happily. Suiting up went quickly and quietly and deployment was methodical. They'd been through this for a year now, nothing changed much…except tonight.

There was nothing special about the day. All seemed well. Everyone was accounted for. All weapons locked and secured all badges up to date. No new issues. All that was left was a quick 'run' around the secured part of the island and then back to barracks and the telly - except for the lone figure sitting on the beach of a lagoon.

It was normal for individuals to spend their off-time enjoying the many beaches surrounding the island. Billings often indulged himself, especially late at night, but this person was unknown to him. A middle-aged, slightly overweight female sat with her back to a boulder, eyes closed, seemingly unaware of the patrol's approach. He signaled his men to surround the woman, weapons at ready. He saw no badge, no uniform, and no indication of who this person might be. Cautiously, he advanced, weapon drawn.

"Excuse me ma'am, I don't think I've met you before."

The woman answered, eyes still closed "You haven't."

"Okay…ahhhh…alright. Well, may I ask what your position is here?"

"Why yes, I'm sitting down."

He grimaced, looking painfully towards his troops as they snickered.

"Look, you have no ID badge."

"Correct."

"How did you get here?"

"I flew."

This time the snickering was cut off after a withering look from Billings.

"Ma'am, I need to know your name, status and immediate supervisor."

She turned her face quickly towards the man, jutting her chin as she pronounced each word as distinctly as possible.

*sigh* "Spindle…active covert operative…Optimus Prime." Her green eyes glittered as she spoke.

"Very funny, lady." The troops behind their leader moved a step closer, readying their weapons.

"Oh, I'm no lady, at least not in your sense of the word." She held up her hand and the flesh around the fingers began to ripple and shift away from what appeared to be long impossibly long, thin metal bones. She wiggled them in Sgt. Billings' direction. He took a stumbling step backwards and brought his rifle to firing position. The others followed suit.

"What are you? OH MY GOD, what are you?"

"A Pretender…'Top Secret, Classified Eyes Only'…Guess you missed the briefing. Now go away, you are disrupting my recharge time." She lay back against the rock, closing her overly green eyes with an exaggerated sigh.

The sound of six automatic rifles being cocked couldn't be ignored. The female, who called herself Spindle, opened her eyes, cocked an eyebrow, smiled, rose to her feet, arms raised away from her sides. She began walking towards the road that led to the base.

"You coming?" She asked.

"Uh…nuh…ERM…HALT!" He hefted his automatic and swiftly took his place in front, while his team ranged a safe distance around her. She turned her hands palm upwards, shrugged and together, humans and pseudo-human walked quickly into the cool recesses of the Human/Autobot base of operations.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

As they entered the base, Spindle looked around the huge area. To one side stood row upon row of computers all manned by human males and females in the military dress of the combined forces of the U.S. and Great Britain. Each monitored a large screen in front of him or her, occasionally speaking to another human on the receiving end of their transmissions. Just inside the main doorway and in the center was a large open space surrounded by catwalks and lifts. A conference room was further off to the back on one of the balcony's which held a large table, countless chairs, computer screens and a plethora of computer equipment that to Spindles eye, reminded her of the playthings a youngling would use in its earliest stages.

"Ah, these humans, they learn quickly." she thought as the sight of several computers bore the unmistakable sign of Cybertronian upgrades.

Her gaze was then drawn to the far end of the complex. Located there were various other pieces of equipment that she knew to be of Cybertronian origin. Several bot-sized computer stations, a repair bay, an area that looked like a rest area/lounge for large mechanical beings. Beyond that she guessed were private quarters, lounge and nutrition area and the medical bay. She shivered with a brief rage; the teeth of her human form grinding loud enough to startling the young Sergeant who had been escorting her.

"Ma'am? Anything I can do for you?" Much to Billings displeasure she ignored him and began walking to a familiar figure who was unconcernedly shuffling back and forth between a repair table and a tool bench laden with oddly shaped instruments, sheet metal and mysterious containers of liquid. The sergeant and his team quickly followed her, attempting to block her from the busy mech.

"Ma'am…please Miss Spindle…you have too stay…"

Ignoring them she shouted up to the mech, "Wheeljack, you old reprobate. What have you in the way of comestibles around this sorry excuse for an Autobot Base?"

"Wha…oh…" The Autobot scientist, startled out of his private reverie, turned a might too quickly and dropped a delicate piece of wire frame to the floor. "Spindle…SLAG…watch where you step; there are pieces everywhere and I need every one of them."

"'Course you do. Typical; I'm starving. What have you got?" she mentioned to the fumbling scientist.

"Energon goodies are that way." he pointed towards what was indeed a lounge area.

"But, I have something here if you'd like to try it. A bottle of Old Maccadam's finest; I've been saving it. Only a bit left."

"Ma'am, you must stay with…"

Spindle growled at the young Brit waving her flesh-covered fingers towards him and turning towards a bank of human run computers, snatched an empty mug from atop a console…

"HEY, that's miiiii…" An evil growl from the "female" silenced the aggravated human, and emptying the last remnants of liquid on to the floor, she rushed over to the outstretched bottle held by Wheeljack.

"Sorry, couldn't find anything bigger…hold it steady, I'll scoop a bit into the mug."

'Jack tilted the bottle until the thick, syrupy liquid came just to the lip of the bottle.

Teasing the beverage with her finger into the mug she held it to her forms olfactory sensor and relished every fragrance that arose from the beverage.

"I need a place to sit."

Unsure of how to comply, her now befuddled human escort motioned for her to follow him to a human-sized kitchenette area. Sitting at the table Spindle turned towards the human," Shoo." and she motioned him away.

"Sgt, I'll take responsibility of our…uh… guest." Wheeljack finally said to Billings.

"But Wheeljack, I can't let an unknown wander around the base unescorted."

"She's one of ours. I've already okayed it with Prime.

Nonplussed he did back off, but remained outside what he thought would be her peripheral view and sent one of his men to contact Maj. Will Lennox.

Closing her eyes, Spindle sipped the well-aged beverage; a look of peace coming over her initially hard-edged features. She had still not officially contacted Autobot command, but was sure word of her arrival would pass through both Human and robotic channels soon enough. She was no Autobot, not a soldier under ANYONES command. Her time was her own and precious at that. They could come to her. But in the meantime, she would sit back, enjoy some of the finest oil in the galaxy and observe the comings and goings of the creatures that inhabited this place.

Setting the mug down onto the table among the few others scattered there, she laced her fingers behind her head and closed her eyes; the better to assimilate and understand the sounds coming from all sides. She heard feet, human feet approaching…

"Yeah, just a minute, I need my…oh there it is…ACK…pleh-pleh…what the hell…is this some sick joke…?"

Spindle cracked her eyelids open a millimeter or two. Standing before her was a stocky human male, American by the look of the uniform…First Lieutenant by the silver bars on the collar. He had the sour look of one who drank an unknown and unappreciated liquid. Some of it had actually spilled down his otherwise immaculate uniform. He looked at her with a crazed expression.

"That's…mine…human. Get your own oil." She snatched the nearly empty mug from the now confused human and finished her drink in one swallow. She even wiped her fingers around the inside to catch every last drop, licking it off her fingers as she had seen some human child lick chocolate off of theirs. She smiled…he shuddered, backed away and high-tailed it in the opposite direction.

"Heh, weak digestive track that one," she mumbled to herself, "No appreciation for a fine vintage."

"I see you are making yourself welcome with the humans." The familiar gruff voice came from behind her. This time a growl of disgust arose from her vocal processor; Ironhide.

"I take it you found her?"

"Yes,** I** found her."

"And…"

"She will find her way to the slaggin' Pit to keep Frenzy company very soon; I assure you!"

"You enjoy that, don't ya?"

"Hummmph. She snorted. "Yeah, you have a problem with that?"

"No, not really, but Optimus might."

"I really don't care what your precious Optimus thinks let alone says. I do what I know is necessary, if I enjoy the effort, so much the better." Spindle smirked "What; you jealous of little ol' me?"

"Wha…me? I don't think…

"That's true, you don't think. You let your high and mighty Prime think for you. Ironhide go here, run there…get that con…oh wait don't hurt them too much." Her voice began to sound like a whiney child. "Oh dear, if we just talk to them maybe they will think twice about annihilating us. Oh dear…oh my…"

Ironhide turned away from the angry femme.

"Don't you walk away from me; I'm far from finished with you!"

"I don't need to listen…" and Ironhide continued walking away towards the rear of the complex.

Spindle followed, her voice becoming shrill "You'll listen to everything I have to say weapons specialist…I am not finished with you…"

"Enough…" The voice was enough to shake the surrounding area, rattling the cups and mugs strewn about the table.

Ignoring the commanding voice, Spindle rounded on the speaker, "Oh I am just getting started…why the PIT was I recalled…" she whirled on the speaker.

"I SAID ENOUGH!" Optimus directed his words directly towards the now wide-eyed "human" form of the very angry Spindle. His words were slow, deliberate; "I will not have this kind of discord among us. Not here, not now."

But Spindle was not finished, and she continued her rant despite the severe countenance.

"Well you've got it now Prime. As long as **I** have to put up with the presence of **these**…" she flung her arms in the direction of both humans and gathering Autobots, "Don't worry Prime; it's nothing you can't handle. Far as I know there is very little that gets past you. Only things you don't handle are the dirty little covert actions behind enemy lines. The ones even Primus would turn his back on. "Here…"removing a data pad that seemed to have been hidden under her jacket, she threw it to Ironhide over her shoulder, "Report's downloaded on the data pad makes good reading. Oh, and by the way…you're welcome." and she began a hasty retreat back to the human lounge.

Walking away towards the lounge area catches sight of the Autobots Chief Medical Officer, Ratchet who stood directly in front of her path of retreat.

"Ah, Spindle; you're here, finally. I need you to…"

"YOU…!" She stopped and lashed out viciously at the Autobot Chief Medical Officer, "what makes you think I'd let you close enough to examine me?"

"**Prime's orders…and mine.**" came the forceful reply.

"Oh really? Just like that you think I am going to submit my frame, spark or processor to your malpractice, you quack? Think again, Hatchet. I've been fine own my own **ever**-**since**-**I**-**arrived.** In fact, I have taken care of myself ever since the beginning of this fine outing of Prime's. **ALL** **ALONE**…you smelt waste…but then you and Softsides over there know all about that, don't you?"

Ratchet stood with his arms clasped behind his back. He almost looked amused as he stated, "You** will** report to the med bay now or I will download an immobilization code faster than Blurr can count to ten."

"You wouldn't dare." and she turned away from him.

Ratchet began to enter series of code on the data pad tucked in his left arm. A slight buzz begins to fill Spindles audio sensors and she begins to lose feeling in her hands and arms.

"Alrigalrightalright." She spit out and began to follow the already retreating physician.

"And Spindle, when you are finished with Ratchet" Optimus countered in an amused timbre, "I want a word…or two with you in my private office."

"Uhhhhhhnnn…" she groaned; guess they did find out about her presence on the base; earlier than she expected. Gathering up what dignity she had left, like an earthly empress she glided off towards the medical bay, her progress followed by the curious eyes and optics of those in the general area.

An hour or so passed and those who could, overheard muffled shouts and angry words from the medical bay's occupants. Epps was taking bets as to when the room's furnishings would start being thrown. Sadly he realized that he had lost as an angrily frustrated chief medical officer stormed out of the bay. He was followed by his overly calm human-looking patient. Ratchet turned fiercely around and pointed to the small human.

"Do **NOT** forget that Prime wants to see you, **NOW**!"

"Thank-you" she replied sardonically. Visibly taking a deep breath, she began to slowly walk towards the direction of Primes office.

"So, what is her major maladjustment anyway?" Epps whispered to Ironhide.

"Nothing a swift kick in the axel won't fix."

"Ironhide that is uncalled for and untrue" Ratchet reproached.

"I know; I know…she rubs me the wrong way is all. Always has, ever since the war started."

"What, you have a crush on her when you were in Autobot School?" Epps laughed.

"NO…She's way…oh for Primus sake…No…it's…"

"…a private matter, human." The "woman's" eyes flashed as she turned viciously towards the hapless Chief Epps. "One of which you will not be hearing at this time." She then turned her intense gaze towards the Autobot weapons officer. It was relentless in its loathing. "Since when do we share our innermost lives with organics?" She made a swift 180 glance around the area, "its worthless staying here. I'll be returning to the city tomorrow."

"Does Prime know?"

"Since that is the mission he gave me, I see no reason to re-inform him of my duties or actions."

"You still need to report to him." Ratchet interjected.

"Go slag yourself Physician. When I am through with Prime, I am out of here." And she marched off, hesitantly towards the direction of Optimus' office.

"Not before Prime's finished with you" Ironhide muttered under his breath.

All eyes followed the now apprehensive figure as she approached the large double doors. They slid open to admit her and quickly closed again.

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	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

When the doors to Primes office closed, it was as if the surrounding atmosphere had just been swept clean by a gust of spring air. A general sense of ease returned and the room's occupants resumed their previous conversations. Laughter could even be heard in some groups.

Major Lennox wandered over to Ironhide and Chief Epps. He'd a puzzled look on his face.

"So, if she's neither Autobot nor a Decepticon, what is she?"

"Geez, we've been wondering that for a long time" Sideswipe interjected as he rolled by. He laughed at his own joke. "She's a fantastic teacher, I've been to some of her lectures, mesmerizing, but she's been a real shard in everyone's side since…"

"SHUT IT Swipe!" Ironhide whacked the annoying senior twin behind the head.

"HEY old bot…watch it! I just had all the dents hammered out and polished."

"Bad as your brother…You'll polish more than that if you continue." Ironhide threatened. "Go find the minor twins and get some more target practice in. Your percentage was way down this morning and theirs is nowhere near where it should be."

Sideswipe grumbled as he rolled out of sight searching for the twins, Mudflap and Skids.

Ironhide chuckled. "He'll have a long search. Those two are a recon mission with Arcee in one of the C-130's today. That ought to rile him up good and hard for a bout this afternoon. I'm looking forward to it."

"So?" Lennox looked up at the self-pleased weapons specialist.

"So what?" he replied.

"So if, what's her name, Spindle; yeah, if Spindle is an ally of sorts, we really ought to know a little more about her; what unpleasantness we could expect on the battlefield and off. What do we avoid in her presence, things like that?"

Ironhide drew air into his filters and let it vent out slowly. He then motioned for the two men to follow him to his secluded weapons storage area. Inviting them to be seated, he also found a comfortable position in which to rest and began to speak slowly and quietly.

"Long before the war Spindle was an archeologist of some notoriety; well deserved too. Ah…she was a very good one…the best; she led the first expedition to the center of Cybertron. There was no one who was better in her field and she had students climbing all over themselves to earn a position on one of her expeditions. The digs were tough, strut-breaking and she was an exacting leader; very little escaped her optics and the advances made by her teams led to hundreds of new discoveries on more than just Cybertron. She had even downsized her frame to better adapt to the difficulty of her work. There were places deep inside Cybertron that were never seen until she was able to navigate the smallest fissures and crevasses on our world. Back at University there was standing room only crowds for nearly all her lectures. And Primus could she throw a party! For whatever reason, she always came looking for me when she needed security. Don't know why but I felt oddly protective of her; especially after she downsized."

At this point, Ratchet, who had been looking for the weapons master entered. Ironhide noticed him immediately.

"Doc, you remember that party Spindle threw after she received tenure and became department head at University? Wildest thing I'd ever been to. It was huge and had to be held in the sports arena in Praxis."

"Yes I do" Ratchet began introspectively, "Even managed to get Optimus AND Megatron to the fete. Both of them were trying; and quite well I might add; to be as sociable as they could be. I think Optimus held his energon quite well, but I saw Megatron wobble a bit just as he left the arena. Wasn't that the party where she introduced you to Chromia?"

"Must have been a sight." Lennox added wryly.

"Yeah", Ironhide mused, "she was. Er…I mean, yeah, watching ol' Megs totter out of the hall will always be a highlight in my memory core." The all laughed.

"If I remember correctly, she was the one plying Megs with the high octane stuff. What do humans say; she 'drank us all under the table?' And for such a little bot she held up well. I think that was one of the few times she really let go." Ratchet remembered. "She was a real connoisseur of oil. Had a direct line to Macadam's and never failed to share with friends and total strangers." Ratchet remembered.

"Yeah, like you, you old codger." Ironhide quipped. Ratchet just harrumphed.

The room then became quiet for a moment.

Epps sighed, "So, what has this to do with the dragon-bot lady?"

"Oh, do not ever use that term around her." Ironhide warned. "Not if you want to keep your head. She'd just as soon snap it off and consider apologizing later as allow you to ask forgiveness."

Ratchet just shook his head and paused. A sudden look of sadness came over him. Epps noticed the change in mood.

"You ok Doc?"

"Yes…yes thank-you for your concern." He went on.

"After she became department head for archeological studies, Spindle turned inward and wanted to dedicate most of her resources to uncovering Cybertron's past, especially in regards to the time of the Primes. There was fierce debate as to whether they were a true part of our history or a myth."

"Started many a bar-fight that subject", Ironhide leaned back musing over a thought. "Yeah, them were the days!"

All three looked over to Ironhide, who seemed to be reminiscing happily.

"Wonder how many he started" Epps whispered to Lennox, who quickly smothered a snort of laughter.

Ratchet continued a slight smile chinking up the sides of his face plates, "Spindles department fell under the prevue of Optimus. While Megatron stood planetary defense, Optimus jurisdiction was the Sciences. I think she was a bit miffed…"

"Pit Ratchet, she was downright ballistic when she found out that Optimus was to be overall head of the project. She'd of ripped him a new exhaust if he had not reminded her that this would leave her free to actually work the dig. Get her servos dirty so to say."

"Yes, something like that." Ratchet replied, "She was mollified for a while but still chafed at not overseeing the whole dig herself. It was thousands of vorns that dig, on Cybertron and other worlds, including our moons. Eventually some interesting discoveries were made, leading to solid evidence that the Primes did exist and were not a myth. She supervised every bit of data, every artifact. Before anything was sent to Optimus, it went through her. Even were Optimus on the site, she'd be the one reporting most of the findings to the Science Council. Arcee was the only other bot, mech or femme whom she trusted with delivering any type of information when Spindle herself could not."

"The day the final proof was uncovered was the endgame. Spindle was actually down in the pit when the first on the plaques was discovered. There were twelve. Some were fractured beyond hope of recovery others only cracked. Spindle translated each plaque, which seemed tell of the lives and deeds of the first thirteen. Eventually the thirteenth was uncovered whole…"

"And it was that one which mega-cycles later became the catalyst for our war."

"How so?"

"Soon after it had been uncovered Megatron insisted that it be moved to his private quarters. He was quite adamant about it. In the vorns that followed he became aggressive, vicious and militaristic. We had been attacked by another race, who apparently wanted the All-Spark cube. They were defeated, but in the aftermath and for the first time in our worlds' history Megatron set out to attack other worlds, other peoples. He had no regard for our history of peace and co-existence. There were many who agreed with his 'First Strike' policy and many others who did not. Eventually our peoples were divided into to two armed camps."

"Decepticons and Autobots." Lennox replied.

"Yes."

A moment of quiet circulated through the weapons lab. Then Ratchet spoke quietly.

"Spindle was…also the last to receive a sparkling directly from the All Spark."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"_Spindle was…also the last to receive a sparkling directly from the All Spark." _

It seemed as if all of time had stopped. A heavy silence descended over the speaker and his audience. Epps and Lennox stared wide-eyed at one another and then up at Ratchet, quizzical looks crinkling the area around their eyes. The 'bots merely lowered their heads and dimmed their optics for a moment.

"I've heard that word before," Will mentioned quietly. "I've always wanted to ask about it but never knew how to broach the subject."

Ratchet looked towards his human comrade nodding thoughtfully. He began.

"To a human, a sparkling would be as a child, more specifically an infant, though that in itself is not an exact comparison. A sparkling is the combined CNA of a mech and a femme brought into existence by the All-Spark. As our sparks are, so a sparkling is. Within that essence is the beginning of a personality that when combined with frame and processor eventually becomes a living Transformer. It carries some memories from its creators, basic programming and subroutines that allow it to grow in knowledge and abilities. It is this young spark that relays growth information to the sparkling-shell and how we begin life as an individual."

"It almost sounds like the Cybertronian version of a human soul. Except we humans can't actually see our souls and have never been sure just where it resides in the body."

"An inexact example but, yes I suppose that might be true."

"So this shell thingee is like an empty body awaiting life? You actually are…uh…born like you are now…uh…all big and armed and such? I'm confused" Robert Epps stated in all earnestness.

"No…no. A sparkling shell begins small, much like a human begin child starts life as a tinier version of its parents."

"The shell would be built by the mech and femme creators, a shell maker, or provided by the temple keepers. When it was in readiness, the creators made their way to the Temple at Simfur and presented themselves to the All-Spark. It is in the presence of the All-Spark that the two were judged whether they are worthy of a sparkling or not. Few had ever been turned away."

Epps laughed, "Must have been a big to-do, with friends and family and all. Quite the party finding out if you would become a parent."

"Actually, it was a most private ceremony. Not ever the temple acolytes were allowed to view the interaction of All-Spark and creators." Ratchet mentioned gravely.

"You mean no one ever snuck a peek?"

"Not if they wanted to remain on-line. It is as private as when you humans yourselves mate, or do you have an audience?"

Both men blanched and then turned every shade of embarrassment known to man sputtering out denials and fits of coughing.

"Ratchet, you take too long. Make it simple for our friends." A soft femme voice called in from the hallway. It was followed by a smothered giggle as two of the second wave of Autobots entered the room.

"Chromia, you know Ratchet does not know the meaning of a simple explanation. It's not in his programming." First Aid replied as they too found themselves places to rest beside their comrades, First Aid by her mentor Ratchet and Chromia in the lap of her spark-mate Ironhide.

"Ah femme of mine, we were just instructing the humans on sparklings and mating and…owww! What was that for?" Ironhide rubbed his large shoulder plate which now contained a small fist-sized dent.

"Just to let you know I love you." Chromia smirked.

*_And I can't wait for our own sparkling*_

Ironhide's optics grew wide and he returned the smirk.

*_We could start now if you like*_

_*I'd like, but not just now. Later, when we do not have to deal with what may come from Primes meeting. Hold that thought now, and I will hold you later* _He vented, heavily causing the attendant sentients in the room to stare in his direction.

"What…can't a mech talk to his own femme in private?"

"Uh-huh…sure Hide, whatever you say." Will grinned at his friend. He turned once again to the CMO and asked, "So, what is Spindles story. She had a partner, brave guy!"

"Actually, no, she had no mech." This statement was greeted with stunned silence by the humans.

"Go on," Epps encouraged.

Ratchet looked over to First Aid and shook his head, his audio suddenly silent. She realized his inability to go on and continued the lesson. Reverently she went on.

"There were occasions; very few mind you, that the All-Spark granted a Sparkling to a single femme. Only Primus knows why this happens, but there are many who believe this one special sparkling is marked for greatness…or ruin. I have heard it postulated that the mech CNA came from those who dwell in the Well of All-Sparks…but no one really knows. I do remember the day she received her call. Do you Chromia?"

"Oh Primus do I. Hide and I were on security detail for Megatron that day. Spindle was giving her final report on the Primes and in mid sentence she just stopped and looked up. It was the strangest thing. Her optics glowed so brightly and her frame seemed to lose years of pent up tension."

"I'd say her plating actually seemed to glow." Ironhide recalled. "She looked up at all those smart-bots in the audience, put her data pad down, stepped off the podium and simply said, 'I have received the call' and she walked out. Ain't never heard a bunch of smart bots so quiet I my life."

"Yes," First Aid said, "It was quite the talk of University. I think Optimus accompanied her to the temple."

"I'd never seen her happier. She was as giddy as a protoform on fermented energon." Ironhide chuckled and then checked himself. Chromia laid her servo over his spark in comfort. He sighed and became quiet.

"So, what made her so…unlikable?" Will continued.

But that question was not to be answered just then as a commotion was heard coming from the direction of Optimus office; a very loud one.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"**NO…I WILL ****NOT**** REMAIN HERE ANY LONGER THAN** I** WANT." **The shout ended the story and everyone turned towards the hallway leading to Primes' office.

"What you want is irrelevant." The calm voice of Optimus relied. "Until we can determine…"

"Prime, you couldn't determine if the sky here were blue even if Primus himself whopped you up one side of your cranial helm and down the other!" She stood there in the opening to the main hanger, hands on hips, a cocky tilt to her head seemingly defying the huge creature that was approaching her.

The room became quiet, deathly quiet. No one moved, no one breathed; even the computers were silent. The female looked at Prime with a mixture of anger and resentment and began counting on her fingers.

"I work for you people gratis, provide updates on internet postings of transformer sightings, keep one optic on human academia and the other on their politicians for signs of discovery,. I've managed to find and contaminate every Con watering hole on the East Coast and have assisted human officials in rounding up those idiots who ally themselves with the cons. To top it off, I also bundle and deliver education packets for your new troops so they don't look too stupid in their alt modes" She was now shouting to the whole of the chamber, counting off each duty as she spoke. My only concession from you is the position I hold at one of the only organizations on this planet that truly understands what history means…and you want me to stay here.

"It is for your own safety."

"Safety…Slag it all Prime, just how safe do you think we are here in the middle of the Indian Ocean? Except for a giant bulls-eye painted on the sand, I'd say we were a great target. It's like saying, 'Hey, slaggers…here we are…come and get us…and our little humans too!'"

"Prime, you're a fragging glitch.!"

Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots, knelt before the small human-looking figure, and brought his face to her eye level.

"I have had enough of your insults, threats, and insubordination." Each word pronounced slowly and distinctly, bore the weight of years of leadership and infinite patience. Yet, there was no mistaking the anger that flashed in his blue optics.

"From here on, you will be confined to quarters until I say you may leave. I regret that we will sorely miss your great skills, but I will not stand for the dissention you seem to cause where-ever you go."

He stood up so quickly that Spindle took a few steps back following his expression.

"Jolt, Wheeljack, escort Spindle to the Autobot guest quarters. Ratchet will monitor your needs and… I will take your nanite module."

As if struck from behind, Spindle staggered back, nearly falling over Jolts foot. Violently she turned back towards Prime, her mouth preparing to blast him with a tirade of curses.

"**NOT…ONE…WORD**!" He then bent down again to whisper in her ear, "Or I will have Ratchet place you in **cold** stasis." She knew that was far worse than simple stasis.

A sick worry passed over her face and she seemed to tremble. Her face twisted into a mask of pain and mortification. Her hands began to shake as she reached into the small of her back under her shirt.

"You may give it to Wheeljack when you have reached your quarters."

Relief washed over the human form and she turned back to her escorts. Defeated, yet proud, Spindle walked between the two larger Autobots to an area reserved for the Cybertronians. She was quiet in defeat, but her fingers beat out a silent cadence on the side of her leg. In seconds the odd trio disappeared from view and sound returned to the hall.

_***Autobot private quarters***_

The door to the small (by Autobot standards) room swished open and Spindle began to enter.

"The module if you please." Jolt stated matter-of-factly.

She glared at him and stood on the threshold of the door, facing the interior of the room, unmoving.

"Spindle please, Prime wants the nanite module." Wheeljack added sympathetically. He held his hand out towards her. "I don't want to…"

"Turn around."

"What?"

"I said, Turn around. **NOW**!"

An awkward silence descended over the three beings. It was soon broken by the sound of a foot tapping out its impatience.

"What…you want a quick peek under my chassis, you perverts?"

"Spindle; there is no need to be rude. Just give me the module." Wheeljack asked patiently.

"Give me a bit of privacy mech, I won't run away."

"Oh for Pit's sake Jack, you heard Prime, just take it from her." An annoyed Jolt insisted. "What's she need privacy for?"

"You gonna show me what's under your chassis Electro-dolt?"

"Don't call me that you sad excuse for a progen…oopf! Whaddya do that for." Jolt exclaimed as he rubbed his chest plate that now sported a small dent from Wheeljack's back-handed swing.

He looked over to the small bot in human form. If it were possible, she appeared to be even smaller after Jolt's ill-advised comment. She turned slowly to face the larger mechs with a smile twisting on her trembling lips.

"Well? What's it going to be boys? Stand here for the next several cycles or will you give me a bit of privacy?"

Wheeljack looked to Jolt, who appeared to be scrutinizing the entire area for secret doors, or any other way their charge might escape from them. He sighed in resignation.

"Alright, you have 5 seconds." and he turned his back on the room and the femme. Grabbing 'Jack by the arm he spun both of them away from the rooms' interior.

A soft slithering sound was followed by quick small metallic feet retreating into the room and the swish of a door closing. Both bots turned to face the closed door and laying in front of it a black metal cylinder which softly glowed with iridescent shades of red, gold and violet.

Sighing as if the weight of the world was just lifted from his shoulders, Wheeljack bent down to retrieve the object. It trembled in his hand and it felt as if he were holding a hive of bees. He turned sharply away from both the door and Jolt and marched out of the private quarters' area and into Primes office.

Nothing was said as he placed the softly vibrating cylinder on the desk. Prime only nodded and Wheeljack left as quickly as he had entered.

***********************************************************************1-7 posted


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The humans on Diego Garcia could have told Optimus that keeping a feral creature caged would lead to more problems than it solved. Not that Spindle was equivalent to a beast. She was actually a very intelligent femme with several degrees equivalent to science doctorates on Earth. No, to put it simply, she was bored and began to find ways to "entertain" herself.

It began ten hours after her incarceration with an imagined Decepticon raid on the base airfield, followed by the emergency delivery of 2 tons of coffee in various flavors. As soon as the pallets of coffee were logged in by Supply, an emergency call was put through to Prime by the President of the United States, asking about the order for a thermal-nuclear espresso maker. When Optimus finished his conversation, assuring the President that it was truly a misunderstanding, the internet feed to Spindles room was removed.

Two days after that found all NEST operatives reduced to writing notes on paper instead of their palm pilots, Blackberry's or any other electronic message keeper. The comm. link to Spindles room was disabled.

Three days went by with no incidents reported, leaving all personnel jumping at the sound of their communications devices. That is until the day after, when all ring tones played the theme to "Barney" over and over and over again. That is except for the comm. alert in Primes office which played "Darth Vader's Theme", the jazz variation.

At the end of the first week, fourteen hacks, 32 viruses', and a logic loop that reviled Prowl's personal glitch had been discovered, dismantled, repaired and/or deleted

By the middle of the second week, the energon dispenser allotted only one container-full of energon per bot per day. And the personal files of human personnel were recoded and intertwined with Autobot files, making Ironhide into a 5'2" female with buck-teeth. Both Optimus and Ratchet fared little better, but many thought that they made a nice couple of preschoolers with birthday cake smeared all over their face-plates…faces.

Finally the room was shielded against all manner of computer, electronic or communications and Wi-Fi transmissions. The only way for her to connect with the outside world was through Ratchet, over his personal comm. line.

"How 'bout we install two tin cans and string?" Air Force Sgt. Marie Peters asked. She'd been designated as a dump truck alternate mode and had wanted to give the recalcitrant femme a piece of her mind.

"No, if we do that", Wheeljack replied "she'd probably figure out a way to hack into the 'Cons mainframe and turn it into a recipe folder. Not that it would be such a bad idea." he mused.

"That bad Huh?"

"No, she's that good. Covert ops, subterfuge, sabotage, you name it, and she's done it. She works better alone ever since…" he quickly turned away from the human.

Since when?" came her quick reply.

"Since…ah since a while" Wheeljack back peddled verbally hoping that the sergeant would take the hint and drop further inquiries. He was saved by Optimus Primes' timely entrance into the hallway that led to Spindles room.

He was followed by the newly arrived Prowl, who was busily tapping away at a data pad trying to reroute the newest shipment of silly-string and whipped cream and wondering why the wash racks carried the faint scent of lavender.

"Prime, I cannot see how simply asking her to end these disruptions will work. I believe she belongs in the brig."

"If we put her there, we will have to completely re-route all electronics from the area as well as build a new shield around the cell. Containing her here is, what would the humans say…'more cost effective' and I will not play her game."

Prime strode to the locked door, keyed in the opening sequence and stood to one side as the door swished open. Immediately a metal chair flew through to open door smashing into the wall on the other side of the hallway. A muttered curse followed.

"You missed. Your timing is off Spindle." Optimus calmly reported.

"Smelt you…"

The air was heavy with silence as those in the hallway awaited another projectile to come hurtling out of the doorway.

"Well, are you coming in or should I find something else to throw?"

Optimus made a move towards the door. Prowl put his hand on his leaders shoulder.

"I think I should go first, just in case…"

"No, I need to see her alone. I thank you for your offer, but should she see you, she'd probably throw the recharge berth next."

"Sir, she's violent."

"Yes, and one of the best covert agents we have. She has always been able to drive herself to the edge of the precipice but she has yet to throw herself over it. And if she does throw something at me, I'll simply return it…the same way."

Prime quickly made his way into Spindles room and the door swished shut and locked with a click.

Prowl looked at Wheeljack, a worried expression creasing his forehead ridge. Jack just vented slowly and shook his head.

"Should I call the undertaker?" Marie asked. Both bots looked quizzically at her. Marie only laughed to herself and walked down the hall and away from them both.

Inside the room, Spindle had ensconced herself on the recharge berth seemingly holding court for her invisible minions. With the launch of the chair, Prime discovered the only other place to sit was on the small desk. Neither chair nor desk would have seated him in comfort, so he opted to lean against the wall farthest from the femme. He crossed his arms, vented slowly and began in his deepest baritone.'

"I'm disappointed with you Spindle. These pranks and disruptions are worthy of the twins, both sets, not one of my best agents. You are a tenured professor at Iacon University…"

Was. And I am not your agent I only hate the Decepticons more then I do the Autobots." came the mumbled reply.

"You still are an instructor of high intelligence and incredible insight. You have even proven yourself here on Earth as a master researcher. Which is why I am puzzled at your behavior."

The comment hung in the air for a few painful seconds. Spindle drew a breath through her intake vents and slid off the berth. She stood straight, with her arms at her sides.

"I feel like a fifth wheel…on a unicycle. I am totally useless here."

"Hardly useless, without your skills we would not have found Sam's EBay site, and your schematic downloads gave us the ability to find Sector 7 before the Decepticons. Spindle, your skills are…"

"I know, I know…specialized and vital to the Autobot cause. Geez, Optimus, d'you always slather it on so thick?" She rolled her optics. "I'm bored too. I really need to get back to my research lab. Primus knows if I have a job to get back to after this"

"Everything has been taken care of. Your absence has been explained as a national security crisis requiring you expertise. The Smithsonian has made arrangements with NEST to have your lectures transferred to another colleague."

"YOU WHAT? You…you didn't? Primus blast you Prime, what right did you have to chuck a spanner into my life? I am not an Autobot for you to order about; I actually had a rather nice life without your interference. Ah Pit, you arrogant, egotistical, demanding, heavy-servoed…MECH!"

At that she rolled off the berth and attempted to lift it from its mountings. Realizing that it would not move, she resigned herself to throwing the contents of her few sub-space pockets at Optimus. Wrenches, a bottle of 10-40, three empty Starbucks cups and a selection of paperbacks from a used book store.

To his credit, Optimus Prime stood stalwart and patient waiting for the fury to die down. He leaned over and picked up one of the paperbacks. The dog-eared pages fell apart in his hand, but he managed to read the title, "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe" by C.S. Lewis. A quick check of the internet disclosed that it was the first published work in the series "The Chronicles of Narnia". He downloaded the synopsis and was surprised that it had found a reader in the irate femme standing before him.

"I'm sorry about the book. If you would like I will see to it that you have a replacement. But I cannot allow you to leave the island. There have been too many Decepticon raids and incursions. We need all assets, even undeclared ones, accounted for and under our protection."

"Yeah, your protection…like you protected the hatchery and crèche."

"Spindle I…" Optimus caught himself. The Decepticon destruction of the Hatchery was one of the first shots in the war that now raged and was considered the epitome of Megaton's evil. It nearly broke Prime before he had even the chance to fight.

Recovering quickly he replied, "Besides every mech's head on a spire, what can I provide you."

Spindle cast around for an answer. What came surprised both her and Optimus

"Books. I want…I need something to read, and not off internet. I want to feel the weight of a data pad or book in my servos. It adds weight to the words that are written." She said quickly, turning her back on him.

"Send the list to Prowl through Ratchet. We will have them delivered with the promise of no more interference, electronic or otherwise, from you."

"So, there's no chance of my getting out of these highly posh accommodations?"

"No, you are a very good at covert activities. Even without the Pretender shell, I do not trust you to stay put for the time being." Prime turned and made his way to the door, keyed in the lock and watched it open. He turned.

"And Spindle, I am truly sorry." He left and the door swished shut once more. A second book hit the door and a cluck on metal was heard dropping to the floor as Spindle resigned herself to more solitude in the Autobot base.

"Don't forget my coffee…please." She yelled as the door lock clicked.

And so it was that book orders by the thousands were logged in to the Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Borders book sites. Books on Earth history and science, biographies of ancient and modern leaders and mysteries were flown into the base with every incoming transport, sometimes by the pallet-full. But the subjects more often ordered were books on science fiction, fantasy and crafting. Narnia, Middle Earth, Pern, Asimov, Stanley, and a host of other well-known and not so known authors filled Prowl's bills of lading. Books on car repair by the "Tap-it" brothers, Click and Clack, tomes on crochet, knitting, doll-making, cooking and paper airplane crafting, to mention a minute few, all poured onto the tiny island, promising a fine library after they had been read by the incarcerated femme.

Spindles weakness for strong coffee also had its benefits, as there was finally enough for the entire base. And after a shortage of 3 months some time earlier, many were ready to forgive a few of Spindles idiosyncrasies as typical of someone's crazy old aunt. This however did not move Optimus to release her into the general population just yet.

And so the weeks went by, a haze of information pouring into the femme's processor for storage and possible retrieval later. Voracious as she was with the desire for new books, the only books that she did not release from her possession were the ones by Lewis, Tolkien, Stanley and Grimes. These she read and re-read over and over as if they were touchstones.

Fantasy, science fiction and mystery; she wondered if this might not be how the Transformers appearance on Earth might not be interpreted by some on this planet. She wondered if Primus had schemed with the Almighty to humble his wayward children and provide a new way of life for the war ravaged population of Cybertron. The inhabitants of this organic world had, at times, astonished her with their resilience, eagerness and strength, despite their obvious fragility. Humility was a hard mantle to wear on such powerful, durable and long-lived frames. It would though, be a lesson welcomed and long remembered when all were finally one people.

********************************************************chapter 8 posted 9: April 2010


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 **

July turned into August and Spindle was true to her word. No hacks, no viruses, no outlandish subroutines designed to make everyone, human and bot miserable were detected in any system on the base. The only sentient who was anywhere near unhappiness was Chief Medical Officer Ratchet. His was the only line open to Spindle and she made use of it nearly everyday, round the clock at any time of the day.

"Physician, I have a list of items I require."

"Spindle, can't you wait until tomorrow, I'm trying to recharge."

"So, send the information to a subroutine and let me know when I may expect the order when you on-line again."

The sound of muffled indignation reverberated over the comm. line. He grunted and replied, "Start the transfer, I'll send it to Prowl and let him deal with it."

The list, several pages long contained items that Spindle decided she needed to pass her overly-long stay on Diego Garcia. It included items such as yarn, crochet thread and hooks of various sizes, needles, scissors, paper making supplies, jewelry findings, chains, gems and semi-precious stones, soldering irons, glue guns, glitter, artists canvas, brushes, paint both oil and acrylic, easels, sequins, dried flowers, muslin, sand paper and of course, storage boxes to be used to store all these items. Each request was followed by a description that was nauseatingly detailed. Manufacturer numbers, sizes, acceptable and unacceptable substitutions, amount and price were all transmitted in the greatest detail to Prowl through Ratchet's inner comm. line.

At the end of the transmission, Spindle smirked and added, "And, please do not forget the coffee.

I do not mind sharing it with the humans on the base but it is not for Autobot consumption. I will not have the minor twins slurping up my Kopi Luwak and regurgitating it all over Primes foot pads…wish I could have seen that!"

"I'll make a note of it." The tired CMO growled. "Are you finished?"

"Yes, good recharge." And she cut the line so quickly that Ratchet winced at the silence that followed.

Too weary to even consider cursing, Ratchet slipped into recharge with images of Skids and Mudflap covered in glitter and serving incredibly expensive coffee to high-strung Decepticons wearing sequins and feather boas.

It is incredible how fast wants can be fulfilled when an especially super-secret government organization is the source of the order. After a wait of three days, Spindle fond herself inundated with every item she had requested and a few of the alternate items thrown in for good measure.

With supplies in hand the small femme set about mastering the various crafts she had until then only read about. Crocheting and knitting needles were quickly dispensed with as Spindles long slim finger servos worked better. Her skill with paint and brush left her wondering if she'd make a better house painter than a portrait artist. Flower fairies were cute but, there really should have been young human children assisting her, and that was out of the question. The skeins of thread for friendship bracelets disappeared overnight as she had a fondness for the complicated knotting and color schemes. The results were varied and much sought after when she gave them to Ratchet to be distributed amongst any who wanted one. Orders for several dozen followed.

Her forte though was with her jewelry-making. Impossibly fine filigreed works of metal and stone quickly became a most sought after item in the base store. Whimsical representations of small animals and insects of precious and semi-precious gems and metal became a status symbol within the ranks of female NEST members and dependents. Orders came pouring in from NEST members on other bases for the intricate designs made by their own alien jewelry maker. By the end of August, Spindle has filled close to 312 orders for jewelry, read 4372 books on various subjects, provided a number of painted wall hangings/curtains for the Autobot wash racks, crafted several dozen scarf and mitten sets all with a hidden code spelling out "Networked Elements Transformers and Supporters" designed in the stitches (this to annoy Prowl) and proposed an on-line store for her own brand of monogrammed "handmade" paper and some of the larger pieces of jewelry that many of the humans seemed to like.

The next few weeks were to be her happiest and calmest in many years. Unfortunately for the Autobots, a call to investigate a Decepticon sighting in Shanghai caused them to miss this once in a vorn event.

*******************************************************Chapter 9 posted, 23 April 2010


	10. Chapter 10

Credit Botosphere on following…

**Chapter 10**

Saturday, August 29, 2009 dawned bright and clear on the island base of Diego Garcia and there was an air of excited anticipation. With Secretary Galloway called back to Washington and the Decepticons lying low for a few days, most off-duty members were preparing for a base-wide picnic.

Tension had been very high since the fiasco in Shanghai, and the Morale Board decided that a day of organized recreation was just what the doctor called for.

Said doctor; the Autobot CMO Ratchet had quite a time convincing the second member of the Morale Board, Prowl, that this type of event was not a distraction from military protocol. This opinion was seconded by the two remaining members, recently promoted Staff Sgt Marie Peters, and Sgt Thomas Billings. Both humans left convincing the Autobot second-in-command to their fellow member and went about instead talking the idea up around the base.

The Autobots were feeling the pull of anticipation as many had made the decision to attend in their holographic forms. It was hard not to be caught up in the excitement and Prowl had to reinforce many of the rules he had just started making out for his fellow Autobots. Especially for the minor twins and in anticipation of the future arrival of Sideswipes twin Sunstreaker. Primus help them all when that happened!

The "Ladies Committee" staffed by Sarah Lennox, River Christiansen and her sister Mia and a few of the dependent spouses on the island, took charge of preparing for and running of the gathering. They ordered the food, tables, chairs, paper and plastic ware, beverages; potent and not and pavilions just in case it rained. They recruited several sturdy NEST members…human and not, as fire-pit diggers. Others were assigned as food preparers, table and pavilion set-up, games planners and monitors and cooks.

This last Mia and River absolutely disallowed their co-worker "Jack", any participation. He was heard muttering after he'd been turned away, "So what's wrong with adding a little extra oxygen to the fire pits? I mean really…"

First Aid was assigned to set up the Medical Station, just in case there were any small injuries, especially with the children that were sure to attend. She was very excited about the chance for the Autobots to relax and enjoy time off. Scheduling the duty roster around the picnic became her main spanner of contention with Prowl, who insisted that every station had to be completely covered and at full strength for the entire day. Only an intervention by Optimus saved the day from being sparsely attended by uniformed troops with only an hour or so to spend at the festivity.

With that one victory, Faye Wright, as her holoform was known, felt bold enough to ask Optimus for a favor. Approaching him in the med-bay she cleared a bit if static from her audio and approached him.

"A-hem…sir…uh Prime, sir. May I ask you a question?" she shyly said.

"First Aid, certainly young femme, what might I help you with?" he replied

"Well…sir," she almost lost her nerve.

"First Aid, unless it's a request to up the minor twins energon rations to high grade, there's no need to be reticent when asking me a question." He optics plates crinkled up in mirth at her wide-opticed stare. When she began to giggle he continued, "Despite popular belief, I do have a sense of humor. Just a bit more than Prowl but it is there none-the-less." he chuckled as he finished.

She stopped her giggles long enough to gulp some fresh air through her vents and nodded.

"Prime, I think we should ask Spindle if she would like to attend…providing you approve." She quickly added. "She's been confined for almost four orns now. I was just wondering if, perhaps you'd agree to let her out for a while." She tilted her hope-filled face up to Optimus, optics wide in anticipation.

"Allow me time to think on this." He said. Her face-plates took on a crest-fallen appearance.

Optimus reached out his hand towards her face lifting her chin with a finger.

"I did not say no, only that I needed to think about it. You two were friends were you not?"

"Yes sir, at least we were before she lost her sparkling. I…I was one of the group that found her in the wastes vorns afterwards. I was the only medi-bot she allowed near her for examination at that time. She trusts me, for what little that may count. But I would like to see her have a chance to get out, join her own people and maybe enjoy herself if she can."

Optimus stepped back from the femme, his processor playing through several scenarios involving Spindle and the assembled bots and humans at a decidedly human festivity. Sighing heavily he finally spoke to the young medi-bot.

"I will ask her. Don't be too disappointed if she refuses though and do not tell her that you have asked about it."

"Thank-you Prime, I appreciate it. I haven't spoken with her since before we came to the island. And I don't think she'd accept the invitation from anyone else but you."

"That may be, First Aid, that may be."

She nodded in agreement and returned to her work table. Optimus slowly stepped through the med-bay doors and turned towards the hallway that led to the Autobots private quarters and the incarcerated femme.

Optimus approached the door to Spindles room in mild disquiet. How would she react to his offer to join the festivities? And if she did join in would she be able to keep a civil routine in her processor when interacting with this mixed assortment of sentients? If he did not offer her the chance to attend the picnic, how much further would the gulf between Spindle and her own kind spread?

Venting deeply, he stopped at the entrance and announced his presence through his private comm. link.

*_Spindle, may I come in?*_

_*Slag Prime, you have the key...make yourself at home.*_

"_This is not going to be pleasant,"_ he processed. Quickly he keyed in the access code and entered the room and stood in stunned silence taking in the changes that had been made in the room.

The formerly empty room had been completely filled with tables bearing the clutter of works in progress, shelves holding a small private library, storage carts containing supplies and tools and other bins, boxes made for her by NEST personnel for whom woodworking was a hobby. For a moment Optimus felt a flutter of hope pass over his spark. Perhaps she had found her niche here on the base.

Looking around at the organized clutter, he found her hunched over an impossibly small piece of jewelry. Her optic extended into a jewelers loop and her fingers extended into tiny picks to hold the figure.

Prime focused in on the piece, magnifying it to see what the shape.

"It's exquisite Spindle." He pronounced almost reverently.

"Thank-you Prime. It's a birthday gift for Michaela Barnes. Ratchet mentioned that the Boy was leaving for college and wanted something special for her."

She laid the work on the table. It was a tiny bumblebee of onyx and amber, set in gold. The wings were filigreed and fluttered as they moved. The almost microscopic eyes were blue sapphires. Great meaning was behind this piece that only a few would understand but all could appreciate for its loveliness and crafting. She then turned so quickly that Prime took a step back and nearly engaged his arming protocols.

"But, you have not come to admire my work have you?' she said as she crossed her arms over her chest plates. "What can I do for the great Optimus Prime?"

His optics blinked twice and he shook his head slightly.

"The base is sponsoring a picnic for all members. We have been invited as well. I wanted to extend that invitation to you. There is, of course, a condition to all this." He added quickly, ahead of what he knew would be her pointed response.

"And **it** is?"

"Is what?"

"The condition, the catch…the hook, obstacle, impediment…what do I have to promise to you and all the humans before you let me out of my cage?"

Taken aback he began, "You will not: leave the base, tamper with equipment including computers and their programming, pick fights with your fellow Cybertronians and you will remain in your Pretender shell as formatted, for the duration."

The silence was heavy as he awaited her answer.

"Will there be coffee?"

"It can be arranged."

She turned back to the tiny jeweled creature on the table. Slowly, with practiced patience, she made her way to a set of drawers and withdrew a small box and some tissue paper. Carefully wrapping the pin in the paper, she laid it in the box and covered it with the lid.

Extending the box towards the Autobot leader, she lightly placed it in his massive hand and cocking her head to one side simply said…"Deal." She then turned back round to her work table and picked up another small piece of metalwork.

"Send Ratchet to me when it starts…Thank-you Prime." And just like that, Optimus felt that he'd been dismissed like a first year academy cadet.

"Two hours." And he turned on his heel and left the room, leaving the door closed but unlocked.

She smiled.

*******************************************************Chapter 9 posted 30 April, 2010


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11 Part 1**

Two hours passed with the quickness of molasses flowing uphill in January but for Spindle it only helped with an idea she wanted to try with the pretender shell. Shedding her armor, she patiently awaited the arrival of Ratchet with the nanite module, in her protoform.

The sound of a transforming robot brought Spindle back from her CPU dreams. She made straight for the door and stopped only a few yards from it waiting for Ratchet to open it and hand over her precious module.

Ratchet knocked and waited for the doors to cycle open. As they parted, he was startled to see the garrulous femme in naught but her protoform, an angelic expression over her faceplates and her servos extended towards him. He quickly stepped inside.

"Spindle, what if I had been Prime or Prowl?" he asked as he handed her the module with great caution and care.

"I'd have been rather upset as neither have my nanite module, though seeing Prowl experience a logic glitch might have been funny. Help me put it in would you?", and she presented her back to the perturbed Chief Medical Officer. Guiding her small, sharp finger servos towards the receptacle located under her back shoulder plates, he pushed the module into place until he heard the tiny clicks of its locking mechanism. Spindle sighed.

Slowly, acting on a silent command from their user, the nanites slithered out and around the form standing before Ratchet. As they coalesced, the visage and form of Dr. Esmee Indle appeared and completed the sigh.

"Well now, that's an interesting feeling. I seem to have more room inside" she winked and her voice sounded self-satisfied and triumphant. Ratchet only cocked an eye ridge and he began to transform back into his alternate mode. When done, the passenger door opened and his gruff voice sounded from the vehicles speakers.

"Get in and don't touch anything."

She began to comply, but quickly jumped out and ran back into the room.

"Forgot something." she called as she disappeared around a corner and into the rear of her room. Seconds later she reappeared with a small basket clenched tightly in her hands. A quick scan of the basket as she climbed into the cab revealed only sewing supplies and notions.

_*Odd, but not dangerous* _he communicated to Prime and together they drove towards the picnic area on the far end of the island.

While driving, Ratchets' holoform winked into existence, startling Spindle. She huffed a startled expletive in Cybertronian and the holo-Ratchet grinned.

_*Serves you right. Two can play that game*_

The coral atoll named Diego Garcia is located in the Indian Ocean about 1000 miles south of India's southern coast. It has served as a military base since 1971 under an agreement between both the United Kingdom and the United States. And by the end of 2007 has served as the primary NEST base for both countries and their allies, the Autobots.

The picnic site was located on the north side between Simpson Point and Eclipse Bay. It was an ideal spot for base personnel to set up various BBQ pits, tables, tents and other assorted what-not needed for an enjoyable day out with family and friends. Many people had already arrived and several games of volleyball, softball, cricket, croquet and badminton had started.

The Autobots who had chosen to attend wandered through the area in their holoforms enjoying the fine outdoor cuisine or splashing about in the bay. The minor twins had set themselves to playing a game of "Killer Badminton" and were being scrutinized by a very thoughtful Prowl. He had agreed to "bot-sit" the two in order to keep them out of too much trouble. Two brawling Autobots, even in holographic form, was not something Prime wanted hence Prowls job as nanny.

The few NEST members who had families on base had secured many of the tables set around the area. These had been moved together, providing a large area for eating, talking and simply enjoying the day. While the parents were making use of their leisure time, the many children scattered themselves throughout the space between both sides of the islands point.

Ratchet and Spindle arrived about an hour after the official start. The drive had been quiet while he downloaded info packets on the holoforms and names her fellow Cybertronians were using. While he parked himself next to the rest of the Autobots vehicle modes, he wondered if inviting her to this event was truly a wise decision. Already he sensed that her spark rate was elevated, her breathing was shallow and quick and the flush of her synth-skin was pale.

"You don't need to stay. I can take you back if you'd like. Maybe spend some time on the beach closer to the runway?"

She stopped on the edge of the grassy area that acted like a border to the day's festivities.

"No", she said almost too quickly, "no I'm alright. I can calm myself. I've only spent time with adult humans in these leisure occasions. It has been a while since I've had to deal with human sparkling and younglings…uhhh…children. I guess I need to remember that if I'm going to 'blend in'" she smiled lopsidedly at Ratchets form.

"I'll just stay here for a bit…alright?" she quickly added.

He nodded with a grunt and proceeded towards a table that was playing host to various pseudo-humans seemingly enjoying as much human food as their plates could carry and an astonishingly wide variety of beverages, most not for children.

From her location near the cooking pits, First Aid could see that her friend had finally arrived. Wheeljack, who had insisted on some kind of "official" job agreed to cover for her and she made her way over to the edge of the "parking lot" where Spindle stood.

"You going to stand there all day or try to join in on the festivities?

"Huh? Oh, First Aid, I'm just, uh…" she drew a deep breath, "I don't know what to do."

"Well, you could come over to the table and try the potato salad. I hear it's pretty good. Or there are a few games you could involve your self in or swimming, you have a suit programmed in the…thing…don't you?" she laughed as she spoke.

A burst of laughter caught both femmes by surprise. Its origin was the table where at the moment Chromia had her spark-mates hand caught up in hers, elbows on the table between them. An old-fashioned game of arm wrestling had grabbed the attention of members of both species, with cheers being shouted out for both contestants.

"Chromia in one." The medic said.

"Huh? Why?" Spindle looked at her puzzled.

"Ironhide had a problem with his wrist couplings last week, didn't come to the med-bay until yesterday."

"Why would that make a difference in the holoform?"

"For some reason he transfers his injuries to the holoform…I think it's to make Ratchet cranky. Or get sympathy from Chromia…which doesn't always work." The medic answered.

The cheers for Ironhide became loud as it looked as if he would win, but just as quickly became louder as Chromia recovered her composure and found a spurt of strength to threaten his lead.

"Five…four…three…two…" First Aid counted down on her fingers, "and…"

"SLAG" came a sullen curse from the lips of the holoform of Prime's weapons specialist.

"One." she completed her count-down. "Told ya." She laughed and shook her head. "Those two are as crazy, as always. I'm glad they're on our side!"

"Yeah…I suppose." was Spindles unimpressed response. "Listen, I think I'll go sit over there," and she pointed out a small, lush palm tree, shading an equally lush patch of ground. "It's pretty quiet and I can still watch everything."

"Del, won't you try to join the rest of us? Just for today?" her friend queried a look of concern on her face.

"F-A, this is as close as I want to be to them. I promised Optimus that I would abide by his rules. They did not include up close and personal with the others." she answered flatly.

"Alright, but I'm over by the bar-b-que pits with Wheeljack. I have to make sure he doesn't "help" the humans improve their method of food preparation! Oh, and we have alt-names, to go with our holoforms, I'm Faye Wright. Arcee and Chromia are River and Mia, Ironhide is…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…I know…I'm not really concerned with that right now. If I need to speak with them I'll just yell 'Hey you', that should do it." Spindle responded off-handedly.

Faye simply shook her head. "I'm glad to at least see you out here. It's not like you to stay cooped up in one place for so long."

"I had little choice didn't I." and she turned away from Red Alert and made straight for the towering palm tree on the edge of the picnic area.

As Faye wandered back to her station, Optimus walked up to her.

"Unable to get her join us?" he asked.

"I'm sorry sir, I thought, oh I don't know what I thought to tell the truth." her sadness coloring her words.

"No need to apologize. Spindle is one of the most obstinate persons I have ever known. The only match to her stubbornness is…was Megatron. Though I doubt she is equal to his complete personality."

"Primus forbid, Prime, Primus forbid." She responded.

A small cry caught her attention and she hurried over to her medical station in time to assist Chief Epps wife Teresa with an injured toddler. Her skill and kind demeanor quickly won over the Epps only son as she applied cleansing foam and a band-aid to his scrapped knee. A lollipop and a sticker later saw him run off to join his sisters in another game of tag which promised to provide Faye and her under worked partner Wheeljack more business in human repair.

Optimus glanced over to the retreating form of the subject of their discussion and watched as she slowly approached the tree. He saw her stop and run her hand over the skin of the palm gently as one would a sparklings face. He sighed deeply and slowly turned towards the members of his command and was welcomed warmly as he approached them.

Spindle sat down, leaned back on the palm tree and closed her eyes, tuning out all but the loudest of noises. Slowly she reached into the basket she had brought and withdrew a small figure of cloth. It still had a threaded needle attached to one of its appendages. Opening her eyes, Spindle resumed sewing the leg of the small cloth doll to its body. When finished, she brought out more fabric already cut into the shape of a simple dress. Rethreading the needle, she began walking it up and down through the fabric to create a seam in the dress. Occasionally she would stop and sit back again with her eyes closed a bemused look on her face.

For two hours she repeated these movements, stopping only now and then to cast a look over the assembled mass of humanity and Autobots. Occasionally a slight smile would curve the side of her mouth, and then be gone in the same instant.

The day wound lazily on when she put aside her project and leaned comfortably against the tree, eyes closed, sensors down.

"Whatcha doin?" a small voice asked from behind the tree.

Chapter 11 part 1 posted 13 May, 2010

**Chapter 11 Part 2**

"Whatcha doin?" a small voice asked from behind the tree.

Spindle, startled at the sound, sat up quickly, weapons warnings coming on line and alerts flashing on her inner heads-up display. Although she had no weapons at the time, it was only an override command which Ratchet had installed on the drive over that kept the pretender shell form losing cohesion and her robot mode from transforming.

She turned so quickly that she fell over backwards, which made the owner of the small voice giggle with glee.

"Funny…you funny lady. Whatcha doin?" she asked again her voice sincere her eyes wide.

"What this? Oh, pretty dolly. I have dolly too!" and she showed the femme, who was still sprawled on her back a very dirty, very dirty looking bunny. Scanning it, Spindle discovered that is was an advanced tracking and medical scanning device. She looked at the child closely when…

"I'm Annabelle, d'ya work wif my Daddy and Uncle Hyde?"

Spindle sat up slowly, moving away slightly, trembling at the closeness of the youngling. Once again her breathing came in quick shallow gulps but her spark pulse threatened to burst her chest plates and the shell that covered it. She started to tremble.

"Don't cry lady…you hurt? You want my bunny?"

"No…no thank-you…uh…Annabelle? I am…

"OK…can I see you dolly?"

"Oh…yes…yes, here. Let me dress her. Oops, watch out for the needle." With still shaking hands, Spindle handed the now dressed doll to an admiring Annabelle.

Annabelle hugged it to her chest and then introduced it to her bunny.

"Can dolly play with Boo-boo Bunny?"

The femme was about to answer when a shriek echoed through the air and a blond human female raced over to the child her face reflecting panic and fear.

"Annabelle…oh my god…Anna…what are you doing…I'm so, so sorry she bothered you…I'll just get her out of your way….

"No…no it's alright" Spindle rose shakily to her feet. "She was no bother at all. I haven't been among youn…children for a long time."

"Well, she shouldn't have been bothering you at all."

"No, no she's fine…no problem," Spindle shook her head slightly and smiled weakly at the child's mother and held her hand out to her.

"Esmeé…Dr. Esmeé Indle, recently attached to the Team that works with this young lady's father.

"Sarah Lennox, attached to said father and youngling, it's nice to meet you, finally." Sarah noticed that the femmes hand was trembling slightly and sought to make her feel at ease.

"Will and I have spent a lot of time around your team. I hope we might have you join us at our home sometime?"

Looking genuinely surprised, Spindle sputtered out an answer of acceptance. Sarah noticed too that her trembling had lessened and her facial expression had changed from one of worry to one of timid joy.

"Why don't you come on over to the table, we've only just started eating and the others are there."

"Thank-you." She glanced over to the table where all the others save three had resumed their time off, only Ratchet, Ironhide and Prime still watched careful the interaction of the two females. "But I think I will…I mean I need too…"

_*Optimus, please help me. I can't stay here. There are too many…too many…*_

_*You may return to base if you wish, Ratchet will take you back.*_

_*I'm sorry Prime, I thought I could handle this.*_

_*You did well. You did exceedingly well*_

"Esmeé are you alright?" Sarah asked quickly.

"Huh? Oh…Mrs. Lennox…oh, I'm sorry. I need to return to base. Thank-you for your invitation, if Prime may allow me the honor, some day perhaps I will visit your home." she said formally, "Thank-you."

"You're welcome…and it's Sarah, especially around us femmes," she said with a wink.

Ratchet walked up to the two just as Sarah was scooping Annabelle into her arms.

"Com'on Bell-of-the-ball, time for lunch. Give Ms Esmeé back her doll."

The child hugged the doll closely and gave it a kiss before proffering it to its maker.

"You keep it Annabelle. Boo-boo may need a friend and I would hate to have dolly be lonely without him." She placed her trembling fingers on Annabelle's face.

"She is…such a treasure." was all Spindle could get out before being overcome and running to Ratchet's alt-mode.

Ratchet walked over to Sarah and put his hand on her shoulder.

"She'll be fine Sarah. I'm surprised she made it this long without running off," he replied sadly.

"She's not a very simple person, is she?"

"No she's not. She's one of the most complex femmes I've ever known and that's saying a lot, as all femmes are complex… but she's even more so." He said matter-of-factly.

"Females of either species are not as complex…as males are simply clueless." Sarah retorted with a playful punch to his arm to punctuate her words.

"Please tell her thank-you for the doll. I know Annabelle will treasure it and so will I."

Ratchet made his way to his vehicle mode and entered the cab. Spindle sat perfectly still, pressed up against the corner of the door, her arms wrapped around her knees, her eyes closed. His scan found her pulse rate dropping slowly while the tremors in her frame were completely gone.

"You're getting dirt on my seat covers." he said off-handedly. "And please make sure you have all the pins and needles you came with after you exit my cab."

Casting a sideways glance without turning her head she answered, "All the warmth of a Decepticon drone but none of those nasty arm cannon thingies." A smirk turning her lips upward.

Ratchet harrumphed as he "started" his engine. He backed out carefully and turned towards the base on the other end of the island. He turned to face her, a dour look on his face.

"You lost the bet," she smirked.

"Yeah."

"Who to?"

"Sideswipe." his voice sullen.

"HA! Should have put something down myself. 'How long will it take Spindle, Cybertronian curmudgeon…" she stopped, no longer smiling. "Please, let's just get back to base."

The return to base was much faster then before. Ratchet could sense Spindle's growing sense of unease. If she was unable to restore her previous equilibrium, he would have to resort to the extreme measure, with which he had previously threatened her.

He remembered that last time he forced her into stasis, which was just prior to the launch of the Ark. The loss of the All-Spark cube had sent her into near hysteria and she had injured five Autobots in her frenzy. Forced stasis and the CR chamber on the Ark were the only actions he could perform to help in her recovery.

The strained breathing of his passenger brought Ratchet back to the present and he accelerated as the grew closer to the base hanger.

Upon arrival, Spindle did not even wait for him to come to a complete halt but instead jumped out of the slowing vehicle. She began to walk quickly, then proceeded to knock humans out of the way a she began a flat out run to her quarters. Along the way she shed the pretender shell, releasing the nanite module and allowing it to drop to the floor.

Dazed humans, hearing another pair of mechanized feet pounding their way, continued to hug the walls as the Autobot CMO ran past, following Spindle into her quarters. Along the way he found pieces of her exterior armor littering the hallway and the entrance of her room. He stopped to pick up the pieces and proceeded through the open door.

The scent of lavender and citrus wafted through the outer room from the wash rack. The sound of clipped sobs echoed throughout the space. Ratchet placed the discarded armor on the floor inside the door and waited until the cleansing cycle was finished before speaking.

"Spindle, is there anything else I can do?" The question was honest and sincere as was the answer.

She came into the main room, her protoform still wet and wrapped in a large blanket. Using the blanket to dry herself she plopped down on a small chair and replied.

"Yes, please ask Optimus to relocate me back home. I just want to go home, please Ratchet. I don't belong here. I don't fit in. I don't…I just want to go home." Her optics pleaded with his and her whole demeanor was as a supplicant.

"Del, I don't know. I don't think it is possible any more."

"For the love of Primus Ratchet, I can not stay here any longer. Please," she rose and crossed the room stopping directly in front of him, "please, if I have to get on my knee plates I will…you win…you broke me…I'm done…just please let me get back to my work." She had begun trembling again one hand out beseeching the CMO.

"Oh Del, I'm sorry…I…I can't." He stared at her sadly and began to back away towards the door. "There isn't…any…"

Suddenly as if a switch was flicked, Spindle felt cold fluid fill her lines and servos. A strange awareness began to creep up her spinal column and her finger servos began to clench and unclench.

"What do you mean there isn't any…any what?" her voice took on a low rumble, dental plates grinding her frame getting into a fighting position.

"Del I'm not authorized to say.'

"The PIT you aren't. You're just dying to say something to me…what is it?" Her servos clenched all the harder now.

"Del, calm down." Ratchet was now moving at a faster pace to cross the threshold and leave the angry femme locked in her room.

Her anger growing, her optics spinning nearly white hot, she advanced on the hapless medic just as he reached the door. Without weapons she unleashed her only means of protection at the moment; her long vicious finger spikes. She began to advance on the hapless mech.

Barely making it out of the room ahead of the crazed femme, he shut the doors with a quick squirt of code and locked them before she could advance any further into the corridor. The click of the locks brought him only temporary relief as those very doors resounded with the sound of angry fists being beaten upon them.

"Let me out, you slagger. Damn you Hatchet…LET…ME…OUT!" Each word was punctuated with the sound of her angry beating on the doors.

"That's enough femme. You're acting worse than a..."

"**WAM**" came the sound of a piece of furniture thrown against the sealed entrance. Even though he was in no danger of being hit, Ratchet jumped back.

Damn them…**WAM**…damn them both to the Pit…**WAM…** him and that slag-wallowing glitch of a "Brother"…**WAMWAMWAM**…Both need to have their sparks ripped from their chests**…BANG** plates…**WAM. **

**CRASH…**the sound of glass breaking and a voice screeching near unpronounceable Cybertronian curses made it through the doors to his sensitive audio pick-up. Then came the sound of metal being ripped apart by her talons. The long screech of metal tearing metal made Ratchet dampen down his audio pick-up. The slashing continued as the now-crazed femme began tearing wires and relays from the wall of her quarters.

Sensing that Spindle finally reached an uncontrollable state, he flipped out the data pad attached to his arm and began to insert her shut-down key code.

"**HATCHET DO YOU HEAR ME… YOU SORRY SONNNnnn…**what the…Noooooooooooooo…how dare you…stop it…stopitstopitstopit…noooohatch…damn your spark…"

Silence, followed by the sound of a protoform frame slumping to the floor assured ratchet that she was is stasis. He scanned the area around the doors before slowly, ever so cautiously opening them.

Spindle lay in a heap on the floor, the room a whirlwind of mayhem and destruction. Tables were overturned; drawers and shelves were emptied of contents and long scratches scored the walls and door frame.

He sagged heavily against the frame of the door and let out a long sigh.

"Damn my spark…it already is, Del, it already is," he mused as he gently picked up the now quiet form and laid it on her recharge berth.

Opening one of his side compartments, he reached in and brought out long straps used for securing patients to a gurney. With care, brought by millennia of practice, he wound the straps around Spindles wrists, legs and chest plates and then to the berth. When he was finished, he sat down amidst the ruins of her room to await Optimus.

**************************************************Chapter 11 part 2 posted 25 May, 2010


	12. Interlude 1

**Interlude 11-12**

…Flash….boom

_**Dark…it is so very dark. Darker than ever dark has ever been. Wait…OH! There it is…it's there…a light…a little light. It is so small…not a very big light at all. But oh so bright it is…and so happy, joyously so, all sparkles and light. Hold it…hold it tight…**_

"_I love you, a bushel and a peck,_

_A bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck._

_A hug around the neck and a barrel and a heap,_

_A barrel and a heap and I'm talking in my sleep about youuuuuuu!_

_Doodle-oodle-oodle-doo"._

**Flash…..boom!**

_**Sounds like a storm is coming. Don't worry, it won't be bad. A little noise, a little light.**_

_**Now…where in the world did that come from? A bushel and a peck…what in all creation are they? Are doodles good things? Never mind…it's silly, just silly silliness. The little light giggled. It cooed and wiggled with joy. You liked that? That's so nice!**_

**FLASH…..boom!**

_**Shhhhhhhhhh…rest little one. There's nothing to harm you, nothing at all. Everything is fine…just fine. There is no one any where who can hurt us.**_

_**Silly storm…what does it think it can do? Noisy thing, always bothering the quietness. More laughter came from the little light and it brightened just a bit. You are so, so sweet, such a treasure…**_

**FLASH…BooM!**

_**It seems closer. Shhhhhhh, little one, shhhhhhh…!**_

_Baby mine don't you cry, baby mine dry your eyes._

_Rest your head close to my heart never to part, baby you're mine._

_***giggle***_

_Little one when you play, pay no heed what they say._

_Let your eyes sparkle and shine, never a tear baby you're mine._

_***giggle***_

_If they knew all about you they'd end up loving you too._

_All those people who scold you, what they'd give just for the tight to hold you._

_From your head down to your toes, you're not much goodness knows,_

_But you're so precious to me, sweet as can be, Baby you're mine._

**FLASH…..BOOM!**

_**Well, that's a silly one too, just like this annoying storm. Mine…all mine. You are such a love, my love, my treasure… I could hold you forever and ever! The little light laughed louder and snuggled closer. All is safe here…all is secure…nothing can harm us…Don't worry…all is well…**_

_**FLASH**__**BOOM!**_


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

"Wait for it…she's almost out of stasis."

"How long?"

"Not long. You may want to dampen your audio receivers."

"So soon?"

Optimus Prime turned his helmeted head towards his Chief Medical Officer Ratchet, a quizzical expression crossing his face plates.

**…."**

The high pitched sound emanated form the vocal processor of the now on-lined Spindle. Both bots quickly dampened their audio sensors in an effort to keep them undamaged from the banshee-like wail. Formerly bright green optics flashed an ugly blood-orange. Whirling in and out of focus she seemed to fix her stare on Ratchet, hatred and pain streaming from the now darkening optics. She was thrashing about and straining against her bonds. They held…barely.

"**…"** the keening had changed to a sound that had never been heard by humans and rarely by Cybertronians. It was the mourning cry of a femme who had lost her sparkling.

The keening struck all the sentients on the base with a sense off loss, fear and unbearable grief. While the Autobots could simply shut off their audio receivers they did not, such was the respect they held for any parental-creator upon the loss of their creation.

As for the humans, they neither complained nor grew angry at the outburst. As fellow sentients, they too felt the great tragedy that had been heaped upon their comrades-in-arms and friends. Ears were tightly covered with hands, fingers, earphones or wads of tissue. Work was halted until the mournful sound abated and when it finally did none spoke, but went quietly back to work.

She trembled violently, great drops of cleansing fluid and lubricant fell from her shuttered optics, her face was turned towards the wall, away from the only other occupants of the room, Ratchet and Optimus Prime.

"I'm sorry Prime, I tried to avoid this, but I may have made it worse," Ratchet began to explain.

"You've been waiting to do this ever since I first arrived to this Primus forsaken Pit-hole." Spindle injected before he could continue. She was gulping the air and venting it out quickly and for several mega-breems that was the only sound in the room.

Slowly her air intake slowed and became deeper, the trembling had decreased some but was still noticeable.

"The dream again?" Ratchet asked.

She looked daggers at him and he returned the stare. In a short war of stare-down Ratchet won as Spindle shuttered her optics. When they opened again, they were a watered-down green.

"It…I…" she shivered and looked up, "Something is coming. Something I've felt…something I…known from before. I don't know when…just from before…it…it is bad" she shuttered her optics again.

"It…hurts…so…much…I'm so tired, so very tired. It never seems to end." She shook her head to clear her thoughts, her face plates set in painful remembrance of her loss.

Ratchet began unwinding the straps and Spindle sat up, pushing herself up against the wall at the head of her recharge berth. She drew up her legs and wrapped her arms around them. He then turned to Prime.

"Do not spend too much time with her. She needs to recharge properly and soon." He turned towards Spindle.

"And I want you to agree to a complete spark scan. I sense that flare-surge is becoming more of a problem that you are letting on."

"I will not argue with you again…Physician…First Aid is my personal medic. I will have her complete the scan and give you the results. I have told you that before.

As he turned she added, "I want my pretender module"

"Later."

Prime nodded in understanding and waited for his CMO and friend to leave. Ratchet merely huffed and left. He took one last look towards the femme lying on the berth. She looked so small, so fragile. He shook his bowed head and left the room.

"You interrupted my mission." she stated flatly.

"It was not authorized." came the reply.

"You disturbed my work."

"It was necessary," came the steady reply.

"You took me from my home."

"I could not leave you on Cybertron to face further deprivation."

"You have an answer for everything, except how to end the war."

Prime sighed, sadness and regret suffusing his face.

"Why? Why am I here? I am useless to you here. Aw slag-it, I don't even know why I even answered your recall. Damn, stupid, foolish femme! I'm an idiot!"

"Your name figured prominently in several Decepticon communiqués. We were unsure as to why and did not want to alert them to the fact that we had broken one of their codes."

"WHAT?" she asked incredulously. "And you didn't think enough of me to alert me to that little factoid? Slag-it Optimus, you should have left me alone, I've faced Cons before.

"On Cybertron" he patiently replied.

"And I have places here on this planet…I…I know this world better than you ever will…

"Precisely."

She only stared at him mouth agape.

"The Decepticons are looking for something or someone…this Fallen, Devastator mentioned; who better to assist them than one who knows this world? One way or another, they would find you and force you to cooperate." Optimus' face was set in a look of concern

"That Decepticon Pretender Fury is on the campus where your precious human will soon be arriving. Surely you don't believe he alone would be able to defend himself against her?" she flung back at him.

"We have taken precautions." Prime answered vaguely.

"And they would be?"

"Classified."

"Which means that little Bee-bot will be there. She's probably changed her appearance and hidden her spark code. Do you really think he can handle the Pretender?"

"Bumblebee is an excellent scout and fighter. I trust him with Sam's welfare."

"Like the youngling…Like Beachbreak…so full of life and hope, curious about everything and willing to follow you into the Pit and back…twice? Did you know he worshipped the ground you and the others walked on? Did you know you were his ultimate hero? That you…

"I KNOW!" Optimus stated forcefully… "I know…Beachbreak was a fine soldier and a good mech" and he vented heavily.

"Is that all he was to you, a fine soldier?" Spindles optics narrowed, their emerald green color now tinged with orange.

"Damn you…damn you both to the Pit, you and that slag-wallowing brother of yours. It's too bad you didn't have your spark ripped from your chassis too. How many more of our young have to be off-lined until your oil-lust is satisfied?"

Prime was silent. Even the whirrs and clicks from his frame were muted.

"We will be leaving for the Mainland shortly. In light of the problems we had in Shanghai and the animosity our new liaison has for us, I feel it necessary to ask Sam for his help. We will be ready for any incident should one arise."

He stood to leave.

"Spindle whether you wish it or not, you are a valuable member of our society. I only wish you peace of spark. You will always have a place with us. Will you be alright alone here?"

She gave only a slight 'hmmm' and continued to sit with her back against the wall. Only when she heard his heavy tread move away down the hall did she look up.

"_Am I…am I alone?"_ she asked herself and placed her hand on her chest plate above her spark.

********************************************************Chapter 12 posted 4 June, 2012


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

A quarter of a cycle later…

"Hatchet…you impaired drone-bot…where are you?"

Several meta-breems pass.

"Hatch…Physician? Are you there? Physi…Ratchet, can you hear me? What's happening?"

"I am here. We are preparing to leave soon."

"Not that you need to worry. You just sit tight," came the gruff voice the Autobot Weapons Specialist.

"Thank-you …Ironhide," a snarky smile passing over her face plates. "Would it be possible to obtain more coffee…strong?"

"I'll have it dispensed directly to your rooms' service center, as usual."

"Thank-you. Primus go with you all." She whispered and the line clicked off.

"That was strange." Ratchet commented casually to Ironhide.

"Certainly was different. You're looking lost in thought doc-bot, what do you suppose she's up to now?"

Ratchet only shook his head, remembering the fierce argument he had with Spindle when she first arrived in the med center. He then quickly moved his fingers over a computer panel and tapped in an order for more coffee to Spindles quarters. Then gathering up extra tools and sub-spacing them he and Ironhide left the med-center to board the waiting C-17.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Spindle sat on her recharge berth sipping the strong, hot coffee Ratchet had supplied her with. She could just make out the weakening signals of Prime and the others as they were transported to the States. Only Wheeljack, First Aid and the newly arrived Paradron Medic, Sylph, registered in her processor. Perhaps she should speak with First Aid, the medic knew more about her inner workings than anyone else on the base. She would love to converse with them, but had nothing she felt would be interesting to anyone and remained quiet. After all there were more than one-hundred more books to read in the next several hours and the further readings of J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis would enthrall her for that whole time.

Somewhere during her third reading of "The Two Towers" she heard a new alarm. There was a firm knock at the door to her room and it was quickly opened from the outside. Major Lennox stood there, nanite module cradled gingerly in his arms, an anxious look on his face.

"Prime wanted you to accompany us on the next mission; seems it will be sooner than he expected."

"This," he held out the module to her, "I'm told, is yours. Guess its part of your equipment now. We leave in 15 minutes; Epps will show you where to get the rest of the gear."

"Gear? What gear, why would I need 'gear'?" she asked insolently.

"You're part of MY team now. And I need to you to at least look like you belong to us. Epps will have what you need" He turned on his heels leaving the door open.

Spindle worked the module into the receptacle in her back, above and behind her right hip joint. Instantly the nanites slathered themselves over her Cybertronian frame as she stepped out of the room and followed the quickly retreating human.

The main hanger and connected work places were a muddle of humans running, computing, talking, shouting, collecting weapons and gear. None stood still, even if sitting. The call was serious and so was the response.

Chief Epps caught Spindles glance and motioned her behind a row of lockers.

"Here, put these on." He whispered breathlessly, holding out a set of Army BDU's. "We don't want Galloway to see you."

"No need." She replied. "Army or Air Force?"

"Huh?" a look of bewilderment then one of comprehension slid over his face, "uh, Army."

"Alright," she said, and began to scan the uniform in Epps hands. That done, she rearranged the nanites covering her frame and in seconds she was wearing the uniform of an Army Warrant officer.

"Chief Warrant Officer, huh?"

"I fit the requirements, seems only fair."

"You sure you want 'Spindle' on the name tag?"

"It's my designation, of course I could write in Cybertronian," which she proceeded to do.

"Right, that won't call attention to you. Actually, we don't wear name tags in fire-fight situations."

The offending tag disappeared.

"Wish I could dress that fast." Epps commented as he picked up weapons for both himself and the newly humanized member of this current mission. "This way," Epps directed with a wave of his hand as he headed toward one of the two C-17 Globemasters that the rest of the team were boarding. Spindle followed quickly and fell in line with the others. She enjoyed the deference paid to her when they realize her "rank" and she smiled graciously with each greeting and salutation. This was fun, more fun that the time when she had scanned the image of a dead British princess and walked around London for a day. She caught slag for that. At least this time she had been _asked_ to imitate a human and she had withheld her desire for greater rank in check.

These two humans; Epps and Lennox; she approved of their no nonsense approach to her presence. She saw how they were able to slide effortlessly between giving orders to their troops and coordinating with the Autobots. Her time on Earth had taught that size and longevity were nothing compared to strength of character, willingness to sacrifice and downright stubbornness. These humans were truly the stuff legends were made of. Even in their short lives they managed to make every day seem full and productive. They, at least, hadn't completely devastated their entire world and made it near to impossible to continue as a species.

Spindle turned to follow Epps to the plane and stumbled from fatigue. "Slag, I should have recharged." Now she could only shake her processor awake and get on the flight. There should be some kind of power center on the plane she hoped and resumed her slow jog to the waiting aircraft.

The flight was noisy for a being that was used to silent running engines. She had dampened her audio pick-up and settled in for the long flight to the U.S. Epps came and settled in next to her.

"Any news from the front?" He asked earnestly.

"No."

Epps looked a bit closer the "human" he sat beside. Even in the dim light he could not help but notice her drawn features and the dark circles under her eyes.

"You okay Spindle? Can I get you anything?"

"I…I need a recharge boost. I put regular recharging off for too long. Is there an open power outlet or something like that which I may use?" she asked quietly; her voice sounding faint and faraway.

"Ummm, what about one of the overhead lights? I could remove the bulb…"

"That's fine", she whispered.

Epps took a quick look around and decided that the best way to do something in secret is to do it in the open, as if it was supposed to happen. He removed the screws holding the plastic cover and took out the small light bulb, leaving the socket empty.

"Done." Suddenly he saw a thin filament snake its was up the interior of the fuselage and into the now empty socket.

"Ahhhhh, yes…thank-you Chief." And she closed her eyes and fell silent.

"Damn," he quipped with a smirk, "must have been some party." Chief Epps took one more look around and saw that no one had paid any attention to his manipulations. He settled into his seat, wrapped his arms around his chest and closed his eyes. Sleep would pass the time and allow him to gather the strength he would need for whatever faced them on this upcoming mission.

********************************************************Chapter 13 posted 9 June, 2010


	15. Chapter 14

A great THANK-YOU, to all of you who have placed this story in your Story/Author Alerts or Favorites. I am deeply greatful for the time you spend reading this little fiction. I've been behind the curve lately and hope I can pick the rhythm during the Christmas break.

Now, for those caught in Winters snowy grip, grab a hot beverage, a warm blanket anda snuggle up to your monitor. I hope this will warm you up a bit.

**Chapter 14 **

Robots don't dream. At least that was what most humans believed. But then, most humans thought robots were little toys used to vacuum carpets or serve drinks. Sentient robots dreamed. When their processors were overcharged and they were not in stasis lock, they dreamed, they relived, re-experienced the multitude of waking moments held within their memory cores.

Spindles dreams were ones that she could never quite see; never quite remember; but they always held feelings of fear, pain, anger, sadness and betrayal. None of her dreams made sense, none could be interpreted, few remembered beyond the first moments after returning to full operation. They both troubled and puzzled her; and they had followed her to this green and blue world called Earth.

One such dream made her groan slightly and shift her position next to Epps. He had been used to listening to a dreamer's sounds and movements. He had five children who had dreams and nightmares enough to make a him and his wife experts in the field. Spindles actions seemed normal. Then she awoke with a jerk and a stifled cry, her eyes frantic, hands clawing the sleeve of Epps uniform.

"Something's not right; I feel; an emptiness. She continued her panicked searching around the interior of the plane becoming more anxious and frantic and the seconds sped by.

A moment later Will Lennox appeared, his face ashen, his forehead creased with concern, tears flowed easily from his eyes. He caught the worried look in Spindles eyes and lowered his head as he walked slowly to the seat where Epps and their new "Chief" were sitting. Leaning in towards them, voice quivering, he said in a horse whisper…

"Primes' dead."

Spindle sat, buckled into her seat, barely comprehending what she had just heard.

"Prime is dead," Lennox had barely managed to whisper before he buried his face in his hand and shuddering with sobs sank to his knees.

Epps merely shook his head slowly from side to side muttering, "Damn…damn. No way…can't be…ain't no way…" He placed a brotherly arm around Lennox's shoulders. Both men remained that way for several minutes. Lennox then stood up and walked towards the rest of his team to break the news, Epps followed him.

And Spindle…Spindle just wished that the plane would crack open and her frame be sucked out to her off-lining. Her processor flung her thoughts around like nano-gnats around an illumination unit, first settling on one file here, but it had to check on another file there, but nothing could be processed until that file over elsewhere was thoroughly scanned but something…and then her memory play-back kicked in.

"_**Too bad you didn't have your spark ripped from your chassis too…just can't figure out how to end the war…Protected…like you protected the hatchery and crèche?"**_

_Then it alighted on her first meeting with Optimus on Diego Garcia…it took half a cycle to download all the information she had learned about the humans during her time on Earth, her contacts, friendships acquired, labor performed, and studies of human cultures, religion and language. Even the little nuances of body language, and human foibles and strengths were copied to the Autobot leader's processor. It would have taken a considerably shorter time, but Optimus had constantly stopped the process and had her clarify some points, explain others or invited her opinion on what she had recorded. _

_Reviewing the information as she downloaded it, Spindle realized that she had begrudgingly come to admire the short-lived humans. She actually held dear the relationships she had made while working in various places around the country. So open they were, so free, given with no strings attached. Somewhere in the great expanse of time Cybertron had forgotten those simple pleasures. She began to regret answering the recall. To be around beings that turned into living weapons, made her tanks churn and her self-preservation protocols glitch and reboot._

_In the end, she shut down her transfer port hard enough to make Optimus jump slightly, a malicious grin forming on her lip plates._

"_So, why didn't you just peruse the human internet instead of interfering with my life and invading my privacy?" she asked boldly._

"_Your integration and interaction with humans and their society has given us a unique view. In our current forms we cannot experience that, nor do we have the time required to learn as you have. Through you we can witness human life on their level." Optimus' optics showed bright with honesty and appreciation. Spindle looked into them and blinked before shaking head to clear her thoughts._

"_I left the Ark to end the constant closeness of you bots. I managed to ensconce myself on this pleasant, albeit primitive world and began a new life. And slag-it-all if it isn't nearly a third of a vorn later and I find myself followed by the very people I thought I had left behind, people I don't want to be with and the Decepticons too.' Her voice gathered intensity and volume, rising in pitch as she spoke._

_They locked optics for a few breems, and then Optimus bowed his head._

"_It was not my intention…"_

"_Yeah, yeah, yeah…I don't want to hear it." She shouted back at him. Spindle stood up and turned to leave, signaling the nanites to recover her normal frame. Over her shoulder she called…_

"_I am out of here. Good day 'Lord Prime', vitriol dripping from every word._

"_Spindle, I want you to remain on base." his words simple and final._

_She turned violently on him, "You __**may**__ be Prime and all, you __**may**__ hold the respect and loyalty of all those mechs and femmes out there, and I __**may**__ owe you some sort of allegiance because of your position, but __**PIT if I'm going to stay on this pitiful rock with you or those other two out there.**__ I am leaving…__**NOW!"**__ and she turned away, walking towards the exit._

_Prime stood; his entire 28 foot tall frame regal and overwhelming. He knew her immediate future and it did not include a trip off the island._

"_You are staying for your own safety…" _

Spindle shut down that last memory, the angry response, and the threats of stasis and the mortification of a public reprimand, one that she realized she had deserved. She began to shake with a grief that came out of nowhere. A sadness so deep it threatened to swallow up her entire being. It was the same feeling that she had had when her sparkling was lost.

"What now? What do we…they…oh Primus, what do we do now?"

Fear gripped her spark and turned her fluids to ice. Standing abruptly, she surveyed the rest of the planes occupants. Some wept openly while others hid their faces in their hands or covered them with helmets. Many faces held the look of disbelief and some exhibited the hardened aspect of anger and hatred. That anger was palpable and she let it wash over her very being like a wave, and the maddening fear turned hostile and filled itself with rage.

It was a rage that might have driven a lesser being into a frenzy, but Spindle began to focus on one point for that rage, one instance, one being, on whom she could unleash the ferocity of her anger. And that being was so close, so very, very close now.

Quietly, she moved to the rear of the plane, setting herself in an empty place at the end of the long row of jump seats. She closed her "eyes" and stretched her sensor net outward, towards their final destination. Bouncing off of a nearby satellite and through the signals of convenient cell phone towers, she began a sweep for her latest nemesis, Fury.

With the advanced abilities of a Cybertronian micro-processor, years of covert eavesdropping and the satellite boost allowed her to locate the Autobots easily enough. They were driving slowly to McGuire Air Force Base from a northern location. She turned west to cover Princeton University, young Witwicky's new location. It was not long before she picked up transmissions from the university web groups detailing a terrorist attack at the school. Refining her sensor sweep, Spindle could make out remnants of Decepticon energy signals. There were two, one she recognized as Fury and another, much smaller one that was no longer in the vicinity. She focused on Fury, following what seemed to be an erratic trail to the 'Con Pretender's final destination.

There…there it was, the one lone Decepticon west of the area of the human the school, Fury, her rival, her opposite, her next victim. She swept the area once more to confirm Fury's location.

That sweep connected with the Decepticons sensor package and on-lined her recharging processor. Roused from her attempt at self-healing, Fury responded with a sweep of her own and recognized Spindles energy signature.

_*Hey, Auto-doof. Heard your leader went off-line. Too bad…boo-hoo-hoo. Guess you'll have to cry yourself into recharge.*_

There was silence at the end of the connection.

_*Awww, so overwhelmed with grief that you can't talk?* _her voice whiney and irritating.

_*I am coming for you, half-spark. Your brother needs company in the Pit* _Spindle finally answered.

_*Bring it on, loser. You couldn't stop us at the crèche, you won't be able to stop me now.*_

Thoughts of the ruins of the Hatchling crèche and her dying sparkling caused a sob to escape for her lips. Those seated near her turned, their questioning eyes seeing only a human in Army fatigues, fists balled so tightly as to be white, and teeth clenched in a face that held death.

*_Oops? Did I make you remember something bad? Sorry 'bout that. You are so dim-sparked, it's a wonder the Autobots lasted as long as…*_

_***FURY* **_the link overloaded the Decepticons receiving sensors, causing them to spark and fizzle.

_*Fury, you will soon cease to exist. I am coming, and I have very little to live for anymore.*_ The link went silent. Fury, thinking of her delightful romp over the shells of dead sparklings sighed calmly, but her processor was already working out plans to defeat the coming storm that was Spindle.

In readiness for their meeting, Spindle flexed and relaxed her human fingers, mimicking the moves of her robot-forms' digits. Those robotic extremities were long, thin, sharp and deadly and they sang at the thought of ripping out the spark of their owner's foe.

As soon as the C-17 landed, Major Lennox's cell phone demanded his attention. Looking at the screen he saw Spindles name. He didn't remember entering her comm. link into his phonebook, and shook his head in wonder at another example of Transformer technology. He answered.

"_Major, if I am not back by the time your troops are ready to leave, go without me. I may very well not need the ride back." _The connection ended as he looked to the rear of the aircraft. All that was visible in the blinding light reflecting from the tarmac was a small dark figure on a motor bike framed by the rear doors as they completed opening. And then, like a dream it was gone.

What the furious blur that left the back of the C-17 after it had landed was, no one on the ground could say. It sounded like a small motorized cycle, but nothing like that had ever been seen on an air base let alone coming out of a newly landed aircraft. It made its way quickly to end of the runway, around the north side of the terminal buildings, over the golf course, through neatly the mowed yards of the bases inhabitants and eventually to the fence surrounding the base. The object, then revved its engines, and seemed to come apart in mid-air becoming something unearthly. It noisily skimmed over the barbed wire and reforming itself into a small motorbike again, landed on the road adjacent to the base and sped off in the general direction of Princeton University; though none knew the destination at the time.

_*I'm coming for you glitch-bait* _she repeated to herself as the wind whipped past her speeding form.

The small, motorized bike carrying the slightly overweight female made its way to a bent lamp post on the campus grounds. Scanning the area quickly, Spindle was able to tell that "Alice" a.k.a. Fury had met her better. Small Cybertronian gears and cogs had been swept to the gutter and there were energon spills and puddles over both sidewalk and lamp post, She'd like to meet whomever it was, who'd left this particular Decepticon in pieces; pieces that she wanted to rend into even tinier pieces. There was little time left before the humans delivered Primes' frame to the air base though and she had to be back before take-off, if she survived this upcoming encounter.

Tuning in to the frequency that Fury used, Spindle followed her quarry to a near-by junk yard. How the Decepticon had gotten there puzzled her. Did she crawl there? Did some human actually pick her up and deliver that scrap heap to the yard? Brave human or really stasis-locked 'Con. Almost at once, she picked up Fury's spark-signal from inside the enclosed yard. It was as if she wanted to be found.

"Aw," Spindle shouted, "and this was such a nice, respectable place before you came."

The human attendant scurried over to confront the trespassing "female", but scurried away faster than his overlarge frame had ever moved before when he was faced with the retreating form of the pretender shell Spindle wore. Nanites slithered away as her true form took shape and she began again to search for her prey. Time was wasting and she had a Con to kill.

_*First this one and then the other slaggin' excuses for fumes* _Spindle thought.

_*Good thing First Aid isn't here. She'd be catatonic at the sight of all these junkersssss*… _

"**Ahhhhhhh!**_"_ Spindle didn't get to finish her thought as she'd been royally jumped by Fury, who came diving down upon her from one of those junkers.

Spindle rolled to the right and un-spaced her only two weapons, a plasma pistol and an energon dagger.

*Look out below scum-slag.* Fury crowed in triumph_._

"_Slagslagslagslag…that was stupid_," Spindle mumbled as she once again threw herself aside to avoid Fury's plasma rifle. She brought her pistol up and fired several rounds in Fury's general direction. Hearing Fury curse twice let her know that at least two rounds hit their target.

Spindle turned and ran down an aisle of towering heaps waiting for their final trip to the crusher. Seeing that a few of them had no windows gave her an idea. Quickly reforming to the pretender shell, she crawled into the cab of an old 1975 Chevy C-10 and waited for Fury to come looking for her. She tamped down her spark signal and closed off her vents. This was what she lived for…luring Decepticons into quiet corners and killing them.

She only had a few minutes to wait until she heard the mechanical skittering of her enemy's pedes.

"Where are you, you waste of metal? Run away to cry did ya? Aw, poor Autobot can't live without Whiney Primey. Come out and fight me."

_*Wait for it*_ Spindle calmed herself. _*Wait until she is overconfident, then strike_.*

Fury realized that insulting Autobots would not draw Spindle out in the open, but her next comments would.

"Hey strutless, too bad you weren't at the crèche when the Seekers arrived. What a sight it was to behold, all those little bodies flying up in the air." Fury laughed.

Spindle shuttered her optics, her system close to overloading with her need for silence and stealth.

"Want me to tell you how Frenzy and I carved up the younglings in the crèche? Or how 'bout I give you a detailed account of what a sparkling sounds like when it hits the floor and cracks beneath my servos? I'll bet one of those Sparklings was yours…

"**MURDERER" **a voice answered from beneath a pile of rusting hands trembled on the trigger of her pistol. Her "eyes" gave free reign to liquid droplets and her "teeth" were grinding in rage. Without thinking she shot at Fury's foot pads, much to the delight of the 'Con. A moment later "Alice" leaned her head up into the opening of the cab.

"I see you slag-bot. Oh poor femme-na, you missing your itty-bitty widdle sparkwing?" Her laugh was maniacal, her intent obvious as she rapidly transformed her left arm into a plasma cannon and fired.

The shot went wide, as at the very same moment Spindle pushed her way out of the other side of the truck's cab, retracted her shell and threw her shoulders into the towering stack, pushing them over. This caused the mass of vehicles to teeter and fall on the hapless Decepticon. Her shot went wild and only caused blistered paint on Spindles chassis.

The weight pinning Fury to the ground was more than she could handle. She tried to angle her cannon towards some of the debris in order to blast her way out. That idea was immediately rendered useless as the mouth of the cannon shattered. Spindle had thrown her energon dagger into the works and ended its threat. She followed up with more shots to the rest of Fury's arm. That appendage disappeared in a ragged explosion of metal, lubricants and energon. Spindle was venting heavily and began to chuckle.

Fury screamed, not so much in pain as in anger and rage. She began trying to extricate her other arm from underneath the fallen human vehicles.

"Can't face me fairly huh? You've got to be one of the most underhanded Autobots I've ever known. You'd make a good Decepticon." Fury looked around but saw no one. "What's wrong Spinny-bot, can't face me even when I'm down? All that Auto-goody-botness wears on one doesn't it? Gotta be fair and give a fellow bot an equal chance…Primus you are all slaggin', strutless cowards. Do you hear me femme? You're a coward, can't even protect a tiny sparkling. What makes you think you can defeat the mighty Decepticon Empire?"

The rear axle resting next to her head exploded in fire and dust. Fury, caught by surprise began to struggle anew, her movements now frantic and desperate. The sound of her enemy's pedes caught her attention and she looked up into the furious orange-tinged optics of Spindle. The chuckling turned into a snickering laugh.

Dragging her left leg slightly, Spindle advanced slowly towards her prey, a malicious smile turning up the corners of her lip plates, the laugh turning into a contented sigh. This only caused Fury to increase her struggles, but to no avail. Spindle stopped just beyond the reach of Fury's missing arm.

"Well, well, well…lookie at the little 'Con." Spindle pointed her pistol between Fury's optics.

"What's wrong dearie…have you fallen and can't get up?"

"Let me get my arm loose and we'll see who falls harder," Fury sneered as she continued to struggle.

Spindle only lifted her pistol and fired…at the debris that had trapped her adversary's arm. Suddenly free, Fury could only scramble backwards, away from the pile of downed cars and the advancing femme. She raised her only surviving weapon, only to have it disabled by several shots from Spindles pistol. Her optics grew wide with fear as Spindle continued her advance.

"You glitching-amusement-bot, what the slag do you think you're doing?"

"Acting like any other strutless Autobot, giving you a fair chance to defeat me." Spindle grinned and stopped. Dropping her pistol and catching up her blade, she tossed it towards Fury's head.

"Let's do this the right way half-spark," Spindle uttered flatly, without emotion and she unsheathed her finger spikes. Thin and deadly, able to pass between the finest cracks in a Transformers armor, these were her favorite weapons for hand-to-hand combat. Fury looked at those spikes and dove for the discarded blade. When she turned back, Spindle was nowhere to be seen.

Cautiously Fury turned slowly looking around the area but could not find the other combatant. As she was about to step forward she was hit from the side and both she and her assailant tumbled back into the pile of cars. She felt her cranial appendages being pulled from her frame and then the pain of her face plates being beaten down into the ground.

"Stop…sto…shhhtoooop…" she felt her vital fluids running down her face as it connected with the ground several times. Her processor began to glitch, various systems redlined and her optics refused to focus on the enraged femme who was now on top of her beaten and off-lining frame.

Spindle held the dying Decepticons head close to her face, her smile like that of a predator as it caught its prey; cold, detached, hungry. She whispered into Fury's audio pick-up…

"Shhh…shhh little one. No one can find us; everything is going to be just fine…"

_**Riiip…**_the sound came suddenly. _**RIIIIP…**_Fury's chest plates began to crack and splinter

_**R-I-P…**_

In one last pull, Fury's chest plate was wrenched open, exposing her delicate spark chamber and her already fading spark. Spindle stared at the dying radiance and began to hum.

"Wha…why are you…singing…why…just leave me…here" Fury coughed out.

"Shhh…dear spark…hush-shhh" Spindle's optics were now a dull, malicious orange. "It will all be over soon…just like before, remember?"

Fury's spark blazed slightly and her remaining fluids turned cold. She recognized her end with a whimper. Extending her finger spikes around the spark chamber Spindle began to squeeze.

"This," she snarled, "is for Prime." Fury grimaced in pain, but Spindle continued to contract the spikes.

"This is for the sparklings and younglings you and Frenzy ripped apart in the hatchling crèche!" Fury's spark chamber began to crack with the continued pressure.

"And THIS," she leaned into the off-lining Decepticons audios and gave one last squeeze whispering, "**this** is for my sparkling you half-sparked glitch."

The chamber cracked and broke apart, and the last of Fury's spark dissipated into the earthly night.

"So far from home." Spindle remarked and kicked the empty frame. "Hope you can find your way to the Pit."

Exhausted, Spindle let herself slide to the ground using the wall of demolished cars as support. She began to softly hum quietly, privately…

"_Little one when you play,_

_Pay no heed what they say._

_Let your eyes sparkle and shine never…a…tear_

_Baby…__you're__….mine…" _Her spark flared once as her optics closed and she slipped into a healing recharge.

The night birds and insect noises returned to the now silent junk yard.


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Phosphorescence; it seemed to rise up from the ground, dancing in random patterns, up…up…higher and higher into the gradually dimming sky. Little glowing points of light flashing on and off in coded signals understood only by those for whom the message was intended.

Spindle's optics fluttered once…twice and came online, unfocused and dim. Slowly, like the dancing lights they brightened and brought the world into clearer view. She lifted her finger servos to the lights and they danced around the sharpened Cybertronian metal unharmed.

"Fireflies…they're fireflies" she thought. "It must be nightfall. I've got to…ooowwww…" the sound escaped her lips plates as she tried to stand.

"Damn, she got closer that I thought," Spindle processed as she looked down to the blistered paint on her left leg. The thigh plating and part of the knee joint were warped and cracked; energon and lubricant were oozing through the openings. She watched as the ruptures gradually began to close as her self-healing program kicked in and sent repair nanites to the area, lulling her into a calming protocol just this side of a good recharge.

_*It's so nice to rest. So quiet…sooooooo*_ She leaned back on the side of a car and allowed her processor to wander towards said recharge.

"_**WAKE-UP…"**_ her internal alarm shocked her out of drowsiness and brought her to fully-armed alert. She shook her head, venting heavily several times hoping to clear her processor and calm the pounding of her spark's pulse. Chuckling to herself she drew a leisurely breath, letting it out slowly, a lazy smile on her lip plates.

The sun had just slipped past the horizon and the dimness of twilight descended like a veil over the now quiet junk yard. A quick scan confirmed that she and the shell of Fury were still alone. Obviously the human owner had decided to remain far away for the time being. This was a good sign as Spindle could now dispose of Fury's frame unobserved.

"Com'on scum…time to find you a final resting place." Her voice echoed off the remains of demolished, unwanted and rusted-out vehicles.

Picking up the shattered frame she made her way to a tower of broken vehicles close to the crusher. Once again her processor recalled memories of her friend First Aid. The sight of these rusted out hulks would bring the femme medic to the brink of a spark-attack and she would be worried and anxious about the agony these wrecks were going through just waiting for the end to come. Spindle doubted First Aid would approve of what she was doing with Fury's deactivated frame as she caught sight of a car with an open trunk.

Quickly and with a sincere lack of grief, Spindle began to shove the Decepticon Pretenders frame into the trunk, pedes first. As she stuffed the last bits into the cramped space she took a last look just to make sure that her adversary was well and truly off-lined. And then it hit her; a tidal wave of wretched grief suddenly and implacably swept over her processor and she was unable locate its origin. She fell to her knees before the open trunk.

Why? Why feel any grief or sadness, why trouble oneself with the off-lining of an enemy. An enemy who had caused such pain and anguish? An aberration whose sole enjoyment in its misbegotten existence was the destruction of the innocent, the helpless, a deviant who delighted in the destruction of newly on-lined sparklings…someone's sparkling, everyone's sparkling, HER sparkling.

Sparkling…someone's sparkling, someone's youngling; somewhere, some time ago two creators named their off-spring Fury. Was she not an innocent once, was she not precious to someone? Did she look in the Cybertronian sky and wonder about the stars, the moons, the possibility of life elsewhere? Did she spend time in a training center with dreams of becoming someone important? Was she always so steeped in evil? Did she even think of herself as evil? What happened to this femme, what made her into the adversary Spindle had just faced?

Spindle looked upon the deactivated faceplates to see if there was some mark, some indication that Fury was destined to her fate. All she saw was the soft curve of Fury's cheek plates, a slight pout on the veneer of her lips. With her optics darkened and shuttered, Fury looked like a youngling in recharge; serene, peaceful, innocent.

Despite her efforts to shake free of these unwanted feelings, there it was, an overwhelming feeling that a life, which never had a chance to live fully, was over. That life would never see the sun again or the stars. It would be unable to regret and rescind its choice of factions, find cheer in a comrade's face, feel a lover's caress or a mate's love…or find joy in raising a sparkling.

The excruciating sorrow that she had lived with for hundreds of thousands of vorns swept over her processor, down into her memory files and through every line, gear, servo and strut. She fell to her knees, gulping air through her filters, hearing the uneven, ragged workings of her venting system.

"No…no…nonononononononono…" she cried out loud.

"I can't…I…won't…I…don't…want…to…Please Primus, please make it stop, make it go away. Not fair…It's NOT ," she howled to the sky.

Once more, looking down on Fury she placed her finger servos on the Decepticons face and softly caressed it, as a femme-creator would a youngling's face.

"I…I'm sorry." Her audio broke, "I'm sorry for the both of us young one."

In a matter of minutes she had gained control of her sobbing air system. Slowly, while she was still kneeling, she placed her hands, their long spikes now furled, on the trunk lid of the car where she had left Fury. Looking up into the oncoming night sky she murmured, "Almighty one, who in your wisdom did create Primus and gifted him with the power to spark life, look down on this lost spark and gather her to yourself. Give her peace after she has known none, a place to rest after the turmoil of living and the love she has never known." Spindle touched her helm to the trunk as she shut the lid and stood. Casting her gaze around the junk yard once more she noted the darkened sky. Its twinkling stars, stately planets and various other high flying objects dotting the evening sky. A flock of birds passed overhead looking for a place to rest a refuge, a home.

HOME…a place that is all your own; of comfort, peace, safety. Spindle had no home. Cybertron was so very far from Earth, her house in the suburbs of Washington DC was unsafe, even the little cottage on the New Jersey shore could not be guaranteed to be out of harms way. Where then, with the Autobots and NEST? With those constant reminders of her failure to protect her sparkling? They would deny that, but she could see their optics following her, she could overhear their voices shaded with pity and scorn.

"Maybe I should join you Fury," she spoke to the trunk of the car. "Maybe I should…"

_*Spindle…Spindle do you copy? Can you hear me?* _The voice was Ratchet's.

_*Femme, where the slag are you?* _that was Ironhide.

_*Why do you want to know? Why would you even care?* _she answered over the Autobot comm-link.

There was silence for a few breems and Spindle processed that they had no answer. She was surprised when one came.

_*Because we need you, because we want you to be a part of us, whether you take the oath or not. We want you with us because Optimus considered you to be important enough to protect. Because we were once friends, and I miss you.*_ Chromia's transmission wavered a bit as she answered Spindles query.

Spindle sat looking up at the now dark sky and shook her head in disbelief.

_*No…no I can't…I have nothing left; there is nothing I can give you, no where I can go.*_

_*Del* the_ calm voice of Ratchet interrupted.

_*Del, you have us. Whether you accept our friendship or not, whether or not you become an Autobot, Prime made it abundantly clear that you have a place with us. You have a home, if you need one, if you want one. Please Del, come home*_

_*I swore I'd never have anything more to do with any of you. I've hated you all since I lost…since I…*_

_*Slag-it Femme, you've been a pain in the aft for so long, still are. Try something new fer once. Sitting where ever you are, feelin' sorry fer yerself is a real waste of time. I'd kick yer aft if we weren't all trussed up like a brace o' turbo-foxes* _Ironhide muttered

_*What? What's wrong?* _

_*Spindle, Galloway has been given command of NEST, Maj. Lennox may be demoted and we are being shuttled back to Diego Garcia netted down on pallets. Please come back, please come home. Primus knows what will happen to you if he discovers your…abilities.*_ Chromia spoke quickly.

_*Home…You want…I have a home, even after all I've said, all I've done?*_

_*Optimus felt so and so do I…and so does Hide, whether he wants to admit it or not. We need you, Maj. Lennox needs you. We leave inside a cycle. Can you make it back?*_

_*Yes, I will be there_.* this came as a barely audible whisper over the link but on the other end the reply warmed the sparks of both Chromia and her mate.

_*Hey Femme, base is locked down tighter than Shockwaves spark. Think you can get in?*_

_*Sideswipe? Ah…yes…yes will make it in, thank-you for the warning. I am on my way.*_

With a new sense of purpose, Spindle rose from the ground. Scanning the area a last time brought no new intrusions. Apparently the owner was not returning tonight. Turning on a path that led to the exit, Spindle transformed into her cycle alt-mode, the hologram of her pretender shell sitting on the seat. Revving the motor, she took off into the night toward McGuire Air Force Base, toward home.


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

As police reports would reflect, there was a report of something rocketing down south-bound New Jersey roads, over US-130 and then over to US-156 south. Even in the middle of the night, the roads were full of travelers, shift-workers, party-goers and the like, and it seemed that every other one had called in to report a vehicle traveling at an impressively high speed.

"_**No, really…it's like a rocket…it zoomed right past us! Probably some military experiment."**_

"_**But officer, I wasn't going as fast as that psycho on the hopped up cycle!" **_

"_**Like I said …I said…'look here Lizzie…some fool driving like all hell is breakin' loose' is what I said."**_

Spindle did not really regret breaking the speed limits of the various roads she traveled. In fact, it gave her a great deal of pleasure to fly by the slow moving human vehicles, carrying now wide-eyed humans, trying to capture the object with cell phone cameras. Naught but a blur was recorded.

Using her jammers, she was able to fend off the police scanners, and was past them before they could even register that a vehicle just flew past them. She was unsure how soon the planes would depart for Diego Garcia and then there was that sticky problem of getting on the base with out calling attention to herself.

After leaving the junk yard she turned east and opened herself up. Flying past the housing developments and farmland of Monmouth Junction, NJ and south to Dayton she encountered only a few late night/early morning drivers. The fifteen mile stretch along County Road 679, notorious for speeding drivers was a favorite of the County police to set up their radar traps. So it came as a shock to the officers when a speeding streak passed their hiding place and disappeared over the horizon. There was no radar evidence that such an occurrence happened and the officers could only follow the path of the streak by listening to the frenzied reported from fellow witnesses.

"Whacha think Paul?" Officer Bryan Brant asked his partner.

"Donno Bry could be a comet, or a meteor, or some newly tricked out plane from the Air Force. That thing will probably pass over to the interstate. Let the State Patrol handle it." Paul replied with an authoritative air.

"Fine by me. Shifts almost over; bagels at Panera? I'm buying."

"You're on."

Spindle, now referred to as "The Streak" by both motorist and the occasional late-night pedestrian; ignored most of the transmissions she was picking up. So far there were no confirmed roadblocks so the road to McGuire was open.

Weaving in and out of traffic at anywhere between 100 and 150 mile per hour required great concentration and finesse. She transmitted override codes to the various stoplights. Optimus may not like having her ignore the human's speed limits, but she'd make up for it by not going through any red lights.

That was strange. Why would she be thinking about Optimus' reactions to her behavior? Normally she would not care…she would not concern herself with what any other bot thought…she…

WHOOPS…!

_*Whoa…easy now. That was close* _she mused as she swerved around a semi, two Mini Coopers and a Jeep as she left Highway 156 and turned on to South Broad street. From here, according to Google Maps®, the road was more rural with less congestion. Even the small towns along would provide less traffic than the state highways she had just left.

Jamming equipment still on high, Spindle pulled over the side of the road and into the woodland, to gather her thoughts. Fumbling her way through the underbrush and the uneven terrain, she moved deeper into the woods until she was about thirty feet from the side of the road. Finding a tree to lean on, she slid down its side and sat at its roots.

It was quiet for a moment. Then the noises that had been disturbed by her intrusion began their night songs again. Damping down most of her own robotic noise, Spindle turned her aural sensors up midway and listened. She listened to a mother cooing her child back to sleep in the nearby housing development. She listened in on the conversation of two lovers as they complimented one another though she quickly cut that sound off. There were sounds from the road she had just left, from the farms that spotted the various empty spaces between developments. Even from the air she could hear the sounds of jet planes traversing the Earth's skies, sending humans to new places or bringing back home.

Home, that one word with all its implications…Home; where one belonged. Where one is protected and safe, loved and cherished. Home…destroyed by a war hundreds of thousands of years old; old even as this world, this Earth was young.

_*Cruel joke there Primus, sending us here after we killed our own home. But is the joke on us or the Humans? How is it that a species, so delicate, so short-lived could ever compare to a Cybertronian? And yet select human governments have welcomed us into their home, some even into their own families. You sent us here to shame us, didn't you? We are here because our power, our strength, our technological superiority drove us mad with arrogance, pride, avarice. We squandered our gifts, keep them to ourselves and guarded them jealously against the taint of other species."_

She sat beneath the tree, elbows on knees, her face buried in her hands. The hands of a human, the hands of the very species she has imitated for nearly fifty human years. They appeared small, frail; yet the more she looked at them the more she marveled at the exquisite construction. Human hands were one of the most marvelous pieces of engineering she had ever seen.

Lifting her head she stared at those hands, flexing them and turning them front-to-back and back-to-front. She retracted the nanites to reveal her armored protoform appendages. They were graceful, long and slender and very, very sharp. But they were not as strong as a human hand; they would never be as strong as a human hand. Human hands could create and destroy, help and hinder. They could show love and affection or strike out with ruthless hatred. And yet, second only to the eyes, they were the most expressive feature a human possessed, capable of communicating language, mood, and emotion

_*Mine* _she thought. _*Mine are weapons. They strike, sever, slice, stab, crush…how could such limbs caress the faceplates of a lover or mate or soothe the static cries of a sparkling?*_

She reformed the "human" hands. The night noises surrounded her with a peaceful invitation to stay, become a part of the chorus, and lose oneself in the darkness.

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ…_*SLAG* _Spindles internal alarm went off reminding her that she had other business to attend to and could not stay. Her internal chronometer indicated that seventy-five breems had passed, about 10 minutes. She slowly began to stand, using the tree as a brace.

_*Break-time's over. Need to…Arrrrrgh!*_

Spindle fell to her knees, clutching her "hands" to her "chest". The pain was sudden and sharp, twisting around her spark like the vines on the tree she grasped at for support. Heaving deeply, she allowed more time for the spark flare to fade. The slow burning followed its usual path, from the bottom of her spark casing around the front and then directly to the gestation chamber hidden within the recesses of her casing. A chamber that once held…she fought away the thought.

_*Mustn't think that, mustn't hope, mustn't dream or wish or…or…* _And the pain was gone, as quickly as it had come.

A quick scan assured her that everything else was nominal and no lingering effects from the flare would hinder her progress. There was only the distance from the tree to the roadside to cover and then she would be on her way. She took one leaden step, then another and another. The edge of the road was coming into sight and her scanners assured her that there were no other vehicles on the road for many miles.

She looked up into the starry sky…and thought.

_* What am I? What have I become, what have I made myself? _And all the memories she sought to keep out flooded her processor, threatening to overcome it and throw her into a stasis glitch. The faces of the techs who had woken her from a long medical stasis, the smiles of classmates at Iacon University at their graduation. There were memories of her studies, reports, arguments, parties. Were not Chromia and her mate Ironhide two of her closest friends? Didn't Ratchet help ease her way into the university system and applaud her rise to the top of the department some vorns later. There was Wheeljack…dear 'Jack…always a bit off but always there with a wild, new idea and a container of Maccadams Finest. Arcee, Moonracer and…and Elita. Wise Elita, kind Elita, crafty Elita and her subtle pranks on unsuspecting military officers and officious politicians. Wicked sense of humor that one, the perfect mate for solemn, serious Optimus. Optimus. All he wanted for her was a sense of peace. He offered belonging, haven, home, and in her hatred and fear she turned her back-strut on them all. None had been left unscathed in this war. All had lost someone close to them; family, friend. And yet they persevered, they closed ranks and became new family, new friends; and they had still offered that to her, despite her shutting them out.

Slowly her steps became lighter, faster. And as she reached the edge of the vacant highway all her pain, hate, anger; every bilious emotion she had clung to for a millennia of vorns drained away from her as a wave from the shore. The slight July breeze wafted around her, caressing her cheeks and sending the scent of the surrounding woodland to her nostrils. She drew in the scent, allowed it to be analyzed, discarded the analysis and breathed in the air again just for the pure joy of the scent. She was free.

With a smile and a silent nod, Spindle reverted to her alt. form, the holographic rider flickered to life and she resumed her drive to the base. For the first time is a thousand thousands of vorns, Spindle, Chief Scholar of Antiquities was at peace with the universe.


	18. Chapter 17

**Ah-HA**...figured it out! Thank-you everyone for reading and commenting. And most especially for adding me/the story to your alerts. Wow!

This one is kinda short. And wouldn't you know it, I figure out how to add to the chapter before posting and I can't think of anymore to write. Typical!

**Chapter 17**

The trip from the wooded area that witnessed her new resolve to McGuire AFB took only ten minutes and driving skills not ever the best Indy racer had. During that time, Spindle called up files on her former human Smithsonian co-workers. She replayed conversations with them, every state official she had ever encountered and linked them with members of the military establishment with knowledge of NEST and its mission. Cross-referencing abilities, position in government, closeness to power centers, security clearance levels and unfulfilled favors, she found the one person in Washington DC who could grant her access to the base in an official capacity. She then put a call in to the White House.

…**at McGuire AFB…**

_*Be…all that you can be in the Arrrrrr-my…Be all that you can be in the…*_

"Hello?" Chief Epps glanced sideways at his friend and leader, Will Lennox; the latter, sheepishly smiled as he shrugged and awaited an answer to his greeting.

"Major Lennox, it's Esmeé Indel."

"Who?"

"It's Esss…Spindle, Major, it's Spindle."

"Spi…OH…where the hell are you?"

I'm outside a pizza restaurant on the Cookstown-Wrightstown road, around 3000 feet from the entrance to McGuire Air Force Base."

"The base on lock-down and the Autobots are rather…uh…tied-up right now…AND, we are personae-non-gratis at present. How do you plan on getting in? He queried.

"Through the front gate, of course." Spindle replied matter-of-factly.

"WHAT?

"Major, there isn't much time. I've thought about it and jumping over the base fence will only lead to more trouble and an investigation that could uncover my…ability. I'm taking a page from Greek history and employing a Trojan horse of my own making." She smiled to herself at the cleverness of her plan.

_*Whoa femme, don't break an arm strut polishing your back armor just yet*_ she solemnly reminded herself.

"Security will be receiving a Presidential Order regarding an addition to the NEST team. They will be directed to give a Dr. Esmeé Indle complete access to all NEST personnel and assets. Please have one of your team at the front gate in five minutes." She rattled off quickly and leaving Will Lennox no time to comment, disconnected the call.

Lennox stared at his cell phone dumbfounded and would have stayed that way if Epps had not thumped him on the shoulder. Breaking the trance he'd found himself in, Will Lennox cast a perplexed look at his closest friend.

"She's coming in the front gate.' He deadpanned.

The Chief would have responded with a familiar expletive had it not been for the commander of base security calling to them and waving a sheet of paper, the Seal of the President of the United States clearly visible at the top.

"Major Lennox," the man called, "you have a guest arriving…main gate. I suggest one of your men accompany me to great her."

"Huh? Oh…uh…yes sir!" He saluted smartly. Nodding to Epps he spoke quietly, "go get our lost lamb. Hope we can get out of here soon."

Chief Epps nodded in agreement, climbed into the waiting vehicle and it sped away towards the main gate.

Spindle had given security ten minutes to assimilate the "order", and five to arrive at the gate to meet her. From the parking lot of the local Pizza Hut, she scanned the perimeter of the base. In the darkness she could see the figures of both humans and their canine partners as they patrolled the fence-line. There was no way she could reverse her departure and simply jump the fence as she had when she left. There would be too many questions asked, too few answers that would suffice and the distinct possibility of discovery. By monitoring communication channels in and around the base, Spindle concluded that the "alien blood-feud" that was bantered about by all parties, would pale in significance should they also find out about Cybertronian "Pretenders". She did not want to imagine the panic and possible deactivation of herself or the others should her hidden trait come to light. No, she decided to take a page from human history and the various mystery novels she'd read in the late 70's and simply invite herself in as if she belonged there. All that was left to do was wait and hope they would welcome her with open arms and take her to the place she belonged. Thank Primus and the Almighty for friends in high places.

_**Fifteen Minutes later…**_

The sound of a souped-up Aprilla Scarabeo 500ie grew louder as it approached the front gate of McGuire Air Force Base. The Security police, alerted to a new arrival, were non-the-less alert to a possible incident and prepared to act accordingly.

Their ready posture slackened ever so slightly, with the appearance of the bright red bike and its driver; a female, appearing to be middle-aged and in need of more exercise than riding a motorized bike would give her.

She pulled around the cars that had been parked in front of the gate for the better part of the day, and drove straight up to the sentry on duty.

"Ma'am, the base is on lock-down. I'm going to have to ask you to get in line…"

"No time young man. I have a plane to catch." She said quickly. "Here…my ID and orders. There really should be someone here to meet me."

The young Technical Sergeant looked over her proffered items and straightened up immediately, smartly popping of a salute, "Yes ma'am Dr Indle. We've been expecting you. Colonel Moreland should be here ASAP."

Spindle smiled. She had no desire to lie outright to these humans. Their purpose was very important to the security of the base and its mission and personnel; and hers, was to return to her fellow Cybertronians and try to pick up the pieces of the Autobot mission on Earth.

Within seconds of the sergeant's comment, a dark blue sedan, bearing the plates of the Base Commander drove up to the checkpoint. Three doors popped open at once, disgorging two men in Air Force blues and one in combat fatigues. The men in blue looked resolute and moved with authority, the third appeared tired, almost haggard until he set eyes on the female standing at the gate. An impossibly wide smile broke across his face and he quickened his walk to her.

"Dr. Indle?" Col. Moreland, the Base Commander asked.

"None other," Spindle replied, "I hope I'm on time."

"Yes ma'am, you are," the second man interjected.

"Doctor, welcome to McGuire Air Force Base. This is Lieutenant Colonel Moses Yanna, Commander of the Security Police and this," he turned to include the third man, "is Chief Ray Epps, NEST Senior Enlisted Advisor."

Spindle turned towards the Chief, her expression one of delight at meeting a new co-worker. Epps stuck his hand out to Spindle and began pumping away at it like a rabid fan-boy.

"Dr Indle, we've heard so much about you. Thank-you so very much for taking valuable time away from you studies to join us. It's a real honor!"

Spindle cocked an eyebrow, trying hard to keep a straight face.

"Thank-you Chief." She said through clenched teeth and turning to Col. Moreland announced, "Colonel, if you don't mind, I'll just take the Chief back to the plane. Time's a-wasting, thanks so much for the welcome." Both senior officers stared in amazement as she made a grab for Ray's shirt sleeve and drew him towards the rear of the bike. He had noticed that she had never dismounted, nor had she offered to shake to hands of the other two men. He threw his leg over the rear seat of the Scarabeo and wrapped his arms around the woman's midsection. Then without a 'By your leave', she revved to engine and took off down the road that led to the flight line access point.

Suddenly, without warning, the little bike reared up on its back wheel and traveled from the gate area to the circle intersection of McGuire Blvd and Tuskegee Airman Ave. Epps yelped as the bikes center of gravity changed. He nearly lost his hold on Spindle, but his feet were immobilized on the foot rests by metal straps and the rear seat tray lifted up to cradle his back. And he heard what seemed to be laughing coming not from the mouth of the driver, but from the entire bike itself. He closed his eyes, laid his head on the back of the female and prayed that he would make it back to the plane in one piece.


	19. Chapter 19

**_I am sorry if you received multiple alerts. I was trying to figure out how to add my own comments before publishing the chapter on the site. Looks like I stumbled on it. 'Scuse me a minute while I write it down..._**

**_OK...back again._**

**_I never thought I'd have so much to write about. It all started out as a "what-if" idea and the story took on a liffe of its own and grew sideways from the middle. I thinnk I may have a few spin-off too; but that is another story...(booooooooooooo!)_**

**_Thank-you all for your comments and for putting Spindle on your list of alerts. _**

_**Chapter 18**_

The little red bike did quite well on one wheel. It was well balanced, never swerved, contained safety equipment, and had chrome that flashed in the lights from the side of the road. If only it would stop giggling. The fact that Ray Epps knew that the bike was actually a sentient robot in alternate mode form did nothing to relive the sheer terror he felt creeping up from his toes, clenching the muscles around his stomach, tightening his shoulders and giving him the largest headache he'd ever have since his four girls had decided to serenade him and his wife with the pots and pans from the kitchen.

They raced down McGuire Boulevard, around the circle to East Arnold Ave, through a parking lot to Hanger Road, over the flight line boundary and right past the SP's stationed at the flight line check point and onto the tarmac. Their goal was a small knot of people standing next to a C-17, being loaded with personnel and the lifeless form of Optimus Prime.

Spindle brought her front wheel down with an abrupt bounce. The holoform turned to Epps and smiled.

"You okay, Chief?" she asked innocently. "I've never done that with a passenger before."

"And I hope you don't ever again" Ray Epps thought as he gingerly pulled his right leg up and over the seat. He only now felt his body trembling, sweat beading on his forehead and dripping into his eyes. He was trying very hard to remain in control of his military bearing and was about to explain, in so many words, just how he was feeling when she placed her hand on his shoulder and said.

"I'm sorry about that. I need to maintain some semblance of cover right now. The human world knows Dr Indle as an odd-duck, replete with eccentricities and all manner of peculiar behavior. If you can, just go along with me."

As he nodded his agreement, she stole a glance towards the rear of the nearest C-17 and its sad cargo. For a moment he saw her features twist in grief.

Eyes closed, Spindle heaved a sigh then she quickly patted his shoulder and replied loudly.

"There you go Chief. I told you we'd get here in time. Never hurts to arrive in style, huh?" She playfully punched him in the upper arm before turning towards an oncoming Major Lennox.

His face betrayed the turmoil in his mind and it appeared that he wanted to give her a dressing down before the night was over. She forestalled him with a big grin and walked over to clasp his hand in an overly firm handshake.

"Bill Lennox I presume?" she asked

"Ah…Will…ah" he stammered.

"Oh…sorry. Will, Bill same thing in my way of thinking. So…mind if I see what has me traveling to the Garden Spot of the Indian Ocean?" and she breezed past the confused Air Force officer and around to the ramp leading to the C-17's cargo bay, the cycle puttering quietly.

"Just play along, she says." Epps informed his superior solemnly.

"Uh-huh." Said superior replied. "Did you tell her of the change in plans?"

"Didn't get a chance to, too terrified to speak on the ride over. Remind me never to ride with that femme…EVER!" They were startled by a loud exclamation coming from their newest team member.

"Holeeee Katzchenjammer kids! What in the world…?" She placed her hands on her hips and cocked her head to the side, seemingly to study a spot on Primes armored pede.

"Dr Indle? How? What? Who?"

Spindle turned at the sound of the voice. Striding over to the plane was Director Galloway, a self-important look on his face.

_*This will be fun!* _Spindle thought grimly and she steered the cycle over to the oncoming Director.

"Well…..Theo Galloway, you ol' dog." She circled him as if she were rounding up a stray cow. "Someone at the State Dept certainly hates you, don't they? My, my…look at you all duded up. Big man now huh? I heard that you were part of some super-secret military team, never thought you had it in you. So, what we got?" She parked herself directly in his path causing him to stop abruptly, nearly falling over his own feet.

Nonplussed but quickly covering his reaction, Galloway walked around the Pretender and over to the rear of the plane.

"This…" he pointed to the immobile form, "this is what comes from allowing viciously, uncontrollable monstrosities a foothold on our world," his voice going higher in pitch as he spoke.

"If I had been informed of this invasion, I would have never let it get as out of control as it is now."

During Galloway's rant, Spindle glanced up at the quiet Autobot frame. Bright overhead lights were gleaming on the few spots of Optimus' armor that weren't covered with dirt or dried fluids. She allowed her engine to rev a bit louder before replying through her holoform.

"Uh-huh…yes…I'm sure you would," came a flat response. Her engine quieted and her holoform face peered up at the mud-caked treads of the Autobot leader.

"Wow…mmmmmm…it's big." She knocks on one of Optimus' legs. "Metal, heavy-looking, you sure it's dead? Damn, I'm going to have to send Rom several dozen packages of heirloom seeds for Michelle's garden for this trip!" She slipped sideways off the bike but still held on to the handlebars as she proceeded up the ramp and into the cargo bay. "You say it…er…he talks; looks kind of quiet to me. There're other aren't there? What about them, they talk too? Where are they? Well this will be fun. I'm looking forward to the trip, brought my bikini too." She saw Galloway blanch at the statement and inwardly snickered.

"Well… be seeing you in D.G. I think I'll go with those others, wherever they are. See if they are willing to talk. Ta!"

Restarting the bike and settling herself on the seat, 'Esmeé Indle' rode away from a flustered Galloway, down the ramp giving him a none to gentle pummel to the arm. And it was only then that Director Galloway, National Security advisor to the NEST team realized that she had never talked to him, only AT him. Both Lennox and Epps followed her with their eyes as Galloway gaped, open-mouthed and ridiculous-looking.

"Interesting lady." Epps commented. Lennox only nodded his head.

"Infuriating." Galloway replied. Then realizing that he had actually participated in a bit of camaraderie, he harrumphed to himself and stalked off, leaving Lennox and Epps to snicker to themselves quietly.


	20. Somewhere Inbetween

**Anyone know how I can fix my chapter headings? I am really off a bit; "Interlude" scrambled it a bit, but I've skipped 18 completely or was it 17...ahhhhhh...I am really confusing myself. Maybe I'll name the chapters from here on in. Rats...more to think up.**

**Been spending more time reading others stroies. Some great work out there! **

**I hope you enjoy this little jaunt.**

**Chapter 19**

Wishing she had applied slightly more power behind the "playful" jab in the arm that she had given the obdurate advisor, Spindle motored down the ramp of Primes C-17 and around to the cargo opening of the other. She stopped at its base and stared at the cargo tethered to the floor. Her spark sunk.

There they were, the Autobots; tied down like common freight. She cut her engine and walked up the ramp in silence, the face of her hologram twisting in anger, fear and pain. She walked past the first pallet holding Jolt, Sideswipe and the femmes and stopped in front of the second occupied by Ratchet and Ironhide. She seemed to crumble in on herself and she pushed the bike towards the center of the plane, behind the pallets.

"Excuse me ma'am. This is a military flight…Oh...it's you." A slim, British sounding soldier informed her. She looked up into a familiar face.

"Oh, Sgt Billings…sorry. It's nice to see you. I seem to spring up on you, don't I?" She smiled sadly, her voice trembling slightly.

"This is such a bloody shame. Treating them like this; a damn bloody shame."

She could only nod her head. After an uncomfortable moment, she looked around tentatively, and then softly spoke, "This area clear of outsiders?"

Thom Billings lowered his head, glances sideways and spoke, "Yes ma'am, they just left."

"Good." She replied immediately and the hologram disappeared, leaving in its wake a shiny red Aprilla 500ie. It began to unfold into a bi-pedal form which was quickly covered with nanites presenting a reasonable facsimile of a clothed human body. The very same image that had confronted him on the beach at Diego Garcia.

"If they come back or ask, you've just stowed my bike and I'm here to…ah…examine these creatures here." She hastily informed him, her face downcast, almost teary-eyed

Thom cocked his head in curiosity, his brows knit in apprehension. He remembered his first meeting with her on the beach so many months ago. She seemed very self-confident, almost arrogant. But the figure standing in front of him now seemed smaller, quieter, unsure, frightened.

"No problem ma'am." He ventured to put a soothing hand on her shoulder; she did not try to remove it. "We take care of our own in NEST." Spindle looked up and smiled weakly.

The sound of the cargo door closing surprised them both. Take-off was imminent.

"Ma'am, we need to take our seats. I can get you a seat up front if you'd like."

"No, thank-you, I'm fine…I…I'm fine, thank-you. I…ah… need to…ah…do you have any coffee?"

Thom smiled, "Yes ma'am! I just purchased a new percolator, I'm eager to try her out before I get back to base." He leaned in conspiratorially, "It's for Marie. Her birthday's soon. Said she preferred coffee from a perc. Hope she likes it."

It was Spindles turn to look askance, but a quick review of her memory files brought up a name, Marie Peters. She frowned. "Has she forgiven me for the dump truck reference?"

Thomas Billings laughed, a hardy, joyous sound, his entire body shaking with mirth.

"Oh quite! She seems to think it is actually a help when she's tempted with an extra desert or two." And he disappeared around the partition and into a makeshift galley.

Spindle chuckled softly to herself as she watched he leave.

_*"Ratchet…Ironhide, Mia?* she commed._ There was silence.

Spindle leaned back on the curved inside walls of the giant air transport and slowly slide to the floor. Taking the glasses from her face and absorbing into the nanite structure she buried her head in her hands and gave leave to the sobs that she had held in check since arriving.

Memories…memories…memories came flooding out of file after file, from the dark places of her processor. Memories from files buried so deep they'd have inch-thick layers of dust on them if they were human paper files. Images flowed one into another over her visual scanner, images taking shape, and disappearing as another took its place. Flashes of the past; the face plates of friends, some long gone; her archeological discoveries, the night sky above Cybertron, buildings, classrooms, people…always people…inhabiting every corner of her processors optic.

And then came the Cube, it shown like a beacon, piercing the empty darkness of space. In that light was a face she thought never to see again…her sparkling…her one love, her joy, her reason for living…Sunstar. At the thought of his name she doubled over in pain as her spark increased its pulsing and her fluid pressure rose. She wrapped her empty arms around her knees and rested her head, the sobbing long since ended and only quiet misery remained; a constant and unrelenting companion.

.

"Spindle, I am here." Ratchets voice was calm and soothing.

She stood slowly, coming forward to his vehicle form and placed both hands on the hood.

"Ratchet…I'm…I'm so sorry. I…I can't process anything. I've lost so…I…I'm so angry. It hurts Ratchet, it hurts so much." She stood, her form sagging under the weight of years of sorrow, animosity and impossible spark-break.

"How long has it been since you refueled?" he asked.

"I charged a little on the plane coming over, but nothing since then." she replied.

"I thought so. There are times I don't know why I bother trying to keep all of you alive, especially when you refuse to take care of yourselves." Ratchet grumbled and the hood vibrated a bit with the sound of his displeasure.

"Here," his voice an exasperated sigh and Spindle heard the sound of the passenger window begin to lower, "Drink both of these." Inside the cab the door to the glove compartment slide open and two cylinders of energon slid out from the recess.

Without thinking, Spindle grabbed on to the netting that covered him and pulled herself up and onto the hood. She then scooted herself over to the other side, leaned around the window pillar and grasped the first cylinder.

Oh, the feeling of fresh energon sliding down a parched throat; it was exquisite, it was satisfying…it was…empty. She leaned in again, placing the empty on the compartment door and picked up the second. This one she drank slowly, relishing it almost as much as a fine bottle of Macadam's finest. When that was finished, she returned it to the compartment, and the door flipped shut.

"Thank-you," she sighed as she settled back on the medic's windshield.

"Please don't scratch the paint, I don't think I'll be able to resurface myself any time soon." He groused.

"Now you sound like Sunstreaker." She mused and patted the hood softly, a slow, ragged sigh escaping into the cargo hold.

She turned to face the windshield of the transformed Autobot medic. Her hand made tentative contact with the pseudo-glass; it trembled as it came in contact with the warm surface.

"I...Ratchet I'm…sor...I'm sorry. I am so very sorry Please forgive me. I…I…don't know what to do. I'm…please forgive me, I'm a fool. You never turned away from me. You never gave up on me. Stupid, stupid femme.

"Not stupid…angry, frightened, grieving…but not stupid, and you're exhausted…you nearly experienced another spark-flare. And…I forgive you. I have never stopped blaming myself for the misery you went through…or your loss." He answered, his voice filled with the weight of sorrow.

"I have so many amends to make. So many apologies…I'm" her processor blanked for a nano-second and she felt her appendages grow heavy.

"Ohhhh, what did you put in those?' her voice already slurring.

"A short line of code that will allow you to relax and recharge. Find a place to lie down and get some rest." The physician voice now filling her dimming audio pick-up.

"Already did" she smiled and she leaned back onto the windshield and stretched her legs across the hood. Then turning on her side, she hooked her left hand under the netting that covered the Autobot medic and curled up on his hood and windshield like a sparkling on its creator's chest plates.

"Spindle…not there…find anoth…"

"You're…rrrerrr…real-lily…berry…ah…comferbul…" and Spindle slipped into recharge without a care in the world.

"Aw slag."

Sgt Billings came around the corner from the galley, a steaming cup of hot coffee in his hand. He looked up and saw Spindle curled up on Ratchet's bonnet; or hood as they say in the States. Smiling to himself, he turned around, deposited the cup on a counter and rummaged around an upper shelf. Finding what he wanted he returned to the cargo bay and walked over to the sleeping form.

"I guess it was a long day." He whispered quietly and covered Spindle with the blanket he was carrying. Whether or not it made a difference to the human-formed robot didn't matter to him. It simply felt right. These people had risked their lives so many times for the human race; tucking a blanket around one of their own was such a small offering.

Spindle stirred slightly, "Thank-you, ess niccccce." She whispered and returned to her rest.

"No problem." He whispered back. As he returned to the front of the plane, he stopped by the light control box and dimmed the lights in the bay.

"Pleasant dreams." He thought, "You will need them."


	21. GO!

**Hopefully the site has corrected for all the bugs that were experienced by many writers. I wimped out and waited until I heard of an all-clear before trying to update. This chapter and the next are the last two before we reach the original stroy line. The one seed of an idea that spawned the rest of this tale-telling. Thanks so much for reading. PLease let me know if you enjoyed it.**

Chapter 20 

After spending countless hours flying aboard a C-17, one becomes inured to the constant drone and ceaseless vibrations of the four, large Pratt and Whitney turbo-fan engines. In fact, to those whose major mode of transportation is a C-17, the sonorous throb becomes a soothing lullaby, guaranteed to lull even the hardest combat vet into the welcomed realm of sleep.

Yet, there are some who insist on creating discord in the midst of harmony; a cacophony of chaos amongst the stillness. And they have no qualms about sharing their callous attitude towards life. Such was the plight of those accompanying the off-lined corpse of Optimus Prime.

The men under the command of Major William Lennox were a close lot. They knew each others likes and dislikes, favorite TV shows and music. They knew not only each others birthdays, but also those of the wives, sweethearts, children, parents, sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles and cousins to the fifth degree. They knew who snored, who sang off-key, who did the best impression of Ratchet at his worst.

And they knew that they had just lost their most revered comrade. This was bad, but what made the situation worse, what rubbed more salt in the painful wound, was the obvious indifference shown by one Theodore Galloway, newly appointed Director of NEST. And he showed his total lack of sympathy with the constant typing on the lap top that he had brought with him on the flight.

"_tipp-tap-tap…clackity-clack…tip-tip-tip…tappity-tap…" _and so on, and on, and on…

An hour into the flight Chief Epps had had enough. With an exasperated sigh and blood in his eyes he stood, and arranging his uniform in place, he strode purposefully towards the annoying human annoyance.

The movement by his subordinate and friend caught the eye of Major Lennox. Turning his face to the oncoming Chief, he managed to catch a glimpse of Epps eyes; their expressions of both men conveyed an unheard conversation in micro-seconds.

"_What's up?"_

"_I'ma gonna kill that sucker, that's what's up"_

"_No, can't let you do that."_

"_To hell with that."_

"_Epps, don't be a fool. He's so far from worth it."_

"_I'll tell you who's worth what. I'm gonna slam that damn lid down on his damn fingers if he doesn't stop all that damn clacking…"_

"_Better that than talking."_

"_Hummmph…so…when is this idea of yours going down?"_

"_Couple of hours…"_

"_S**t." _But Epps turned towards the rear of the cargo bay and walked off his anger with a circuit around the prone frame of Optimus Prime.

Thom Billings was jolted from his peaceful dream of white sand beaches, lush palms, blue surf and Marie in the all-togetherrrrr…_Oooono…nope…stop that…stop that right now!_ He shook his head in an attempt to awaken his brain and shake out the near pornographic dream he could almost touch.

As his brain settled into awareness from its jostling, Billings hearing kicked in. He heard the unmistakable revving of a motorcycle engine, then two, then three. It took him nano-seconds to remember and realize what was now happening. He jacked his earphones into the C-17's internal comm-system…

"Hey Capt., the Bots are restless. Are we near the jump point?"

"Ah…roger that. We're waiting for final confirmation from Big Dog."

"Understood." He couldn't keep the grin from splitting across his face in wicked glee and he turned towards the source of the rumbling engines.

Pulling out his Leatherman® tool, he opened it to the largest, sharpest knife configuration and began sawing away at the restraints the bound the three femmes on to the loading pallet. Movement off to his left, showed two long metallic blades pop up and arc downwards, slicing that portion of netting that bound Sideswipe. Peeling the webbing from his frame, the master-swordsmech turned towards the pallet behind him and began cutting through the bonds that kept a now very sour Ironhide in his alt-mode.

"Can't you go any faster" Ironhide complained.

"Don't want to muss that pretty armor of yours." Sideswipe snarked back. One final swoosh of his blade left the net in pieces and allowed an opening for the large weapons-master.

"You'd best get me out this plane", the weapons specialist grumbled as he lifted the netting off of his frame.

While Sideswipe finished off the rest on the restraining Kevlar® treated nylon restraints, the C-17's loadmaster began prepping the cargo area for the drop. He hid his delighted smirk as Chromia wheeled up to her mate and said mate wrapped his weapons laden arms around her. She was nearly lost in his embrace.

Awaiting his turn for release, Ratchet, the Autobots Chief Medical Officer, was trying to waken the recharging femme curled up on his hood and windshield.

"Spindle…Spindle, come in please…Spindle, are you receiving me? Del…online…**DEL**…! His patience worn thin, he sent a slight electric charge through his frame and jolted recharging femme into online awareness.

_**Buzzzzerrrrrt!**_

Yeee-owwww! The shout reverberated throughout the cargo area. This was followed by the sound of a body rolling over the hood of a Hummer H-2 and numerous curses that could only be described as static-like and angry sounding.

"Just what the slag was that for?" her voice filled with the promise of payback. "What in the Pit could be so all-fire im…" she stopped, as the scene before her came into focus. Seeing the other bots rise from their places on the loading pallets, she supposed that they were getting ready to land at the base on Diego Garcia.

"Oh," she remarked sheepishly, "I didn't realize we were so close to base."

"We're not." She looked over to the speaker. Sideswipe continued, "Change of plans."

"What?" But before waiting for an answer, Spindle's unfocused eyes and slack face indicated that she was consulting her memory files. As this was happening, she also sent a command to retract the nanites. They responded quickly, with susurrus exuviations, and she began to unfold herself to her full 10 foot height. At once, her optics fully refocused, and a puzzled look swept across her face plates.

"Wait-a-minute…this isn't the India Ocean. What the slag is going on? I thought we were returning to the base? What the Pit! Why are we…?"

"Above Egyptian air space?" Arcee completed. "We have been given reason to believe that Sam has a way to revive Optimus and we are going to meet him there."

Spindle stared at the pink femme a look of incredulous wonder crossing her face plates. For a moment, the world seemed to drop away and leave her hovering between reality and dreams.

"Revive Optimus? How?" she half whispered to herself. A fleeting wisp of hope passed through Spindles spark and she shivered.

"Yeah, and if we don't a move on, the Cons may be there first." Sideswipe announced abruptly.

"Alright," shaking her head, she began nodding in agreement. "Alright, count me in. You got Con afts to slag, I'm all for it!"

Chromia cast an anxious look towards her mate. He caught that look and grunted.

"What weapons are you carrying now?" Ironhide spoke now as Weapons Master and she un-spaced a small energon blade and pistol. The pistol had numerous notches and scrapes; kill marks and the blade thin and as long as one of her finger servos. Ironhide shook his head. Chromia moved to the femmes' side

"Del, this isn't some back alley on Cybertron, these Cons will be firing weapons bigger than your entire frame," a worried tone colored Ironhide's words. "Stay with the plane, you'll be safer."

"Safer…uh-huh…yeah, sure. And out of the action; look when the bucket lands, I will simply follow you off. I am still a civilian, you cannot stop me," she retorted, crossing her arms over her chest plates.

"We're not landing," Chromia interjected. Spindle looked to the femme, confusion crossing her face; then… "What?"

"Del!" The voice came from the rear of the plane. "Here, catch!" Sailing over the heads of the bots standing between them, came a photon rifle. It barely cleared the Weapons Specialists' head as he ducked, and directly into the outstretched arms of the femme to whom it had been sent; her confused expression now replaced with one of near panic.

"Holy Pit-firing slag Sideswipe; ya coulda shot out the plane ya processor-less, pit-spawn!" Ironhide was practically livid, his optics a dangerous red-tinged blue, his speech pattern becoming less sophisticated.

"But I didn't. Anyway the safety is on and she caught it just as I planned she would.

"Smug, idiot mech with slag-for-memory," Ironhide continued, to all who could hear. "I oughta throw ya outta this plane head first with no chute. It shouldn't do any harm if ya land on yer head. Might even improve that sorry excuse ya call a processor." He stormed to the mid-section of the plane, Chromia following with soothing words and caresses.

Meanwhile, Spindle was both admiring and studying the weapon. It was nearly as long as her arm, but she found that she'd no trouble handling it.

"Thanks!" she looked up at the swordsmech, "It's really well-balanced. I like the targeting array." She held it in firing position, Sideswipe in her sights. "Yeah, nice; I appreciate it." She smiled shyly at the mech and gave a little chuckle and sub-spaced the rifle neatly.

Okay." She announced, "Weapon's upgraded." And then she caught herself, and it seemed as if the light finally lit itself in her processor.

"So we're not landing…but…AWWWWWW! But I don't have any chute-upgrades. I can't…waitaminute…HaH!" In an instant, where a slender Cybertronian Femme had been standing, the short, slightly overweight human female known as Esmeé appeared. She turned towards the loadmaster as he was finishing calculating weight ratios and drop times.

"Do you have anything in this size?" she smiled sweetly at the man. She pirouetted in front of him and placed her hands on her hips, still smiling.

"Yes, maam," was all he could get out as his eyes, big as saucers, took in the human form. Nodding as he back-peddled to the planes mid-section, he nearly tripped over Thom Billings. A quick, whispered conference between the two and Thom was off the find the needed equipment.

"Del, this ain't no holiday outing. I can't allow you…"

She rounded on the Weapons Specialist. "You…can't…WHAT? Allow me to WHAT?" she began to advance towards Ironhide, who stood, hands firmly planted on his hip plates. She reverted back to robot form; the better to stare him down, if she could, though 'up ' was more like it.

"Mech, I have a lot of amends to make, apologies to tender; too much to make up for. I intend to start now. I am well aware of the dangers, and the distinct possibility of off-lining." Her ten foot tall frame, barely reached Ironhide's chest plates, but the vehemence with which she spoke, the determination that shone from the set of her face plates and the speed of her advance caused Ironhide to take a step backwards and raise his hands before him. She continued to harangue the larger, black mech.

That, '_can't live with you, can't live without you_' saying that the humans bandy about must be universal. "I'm tired of keeping myself separate from the rest of you. I'm tired of feeling lost. I'm tired of being alone. If I have to offline today, I want it to be for a good reason and with people…people I…."

"Ma'am?" Sgt Billings called, "I have your chute here." Del sighed in relief. The words just would not come. How could things change so drastically so fast? How could anyone believe her sudden change in attitude? Why was this happening? The answers would not come. But she felt a kind of peace that she'd not felt in hundreds of thousands of vorns, and it gave her comfort.

Thom Billings, Sergeant, Royal Air Force stood off to the side with an MC-4 parachute rig. Spindle turned around to face the human and walked towards him.

"Uh, ma'am, you do know how to operate this type of parachute?" he asked. Spindles' human eyes lost their focus for a moment as she scanned the internet. Almost as rote she replied…

"The MC-4 standard military freefall parachute system, used by U.S Army Spec-Ops. It meets the full range of military freefall parachute operations which include HALO and HAHO. MT-1X 7-cell 370 square foot main and reserve canopies with…" she looked closely at the front of the harness, "with an Irvin FF-2 automatic ripcord release." A grin lit up her face.

Billings stared, mouth agape as she continued.

"Yes, I do believe I can operate this piece of equipment." She moved toward the waiting harness and began to slip an arm through on of the straps. "Now if you would just help me into it, I'll see if I can't beat these tired old bots to the ground."

"Who you callin' tired femme," Hide groused.

"You, you old bot," And she laughed, soft and sweet, like she used to laugh so long ago he remembered.

"We'll see," was his huffy reply. Chromia turned her face away, but her laughter spread over their spark bond and her mate only shook his head in dismay.

"_Don't encourage her love."_

"_Can't be helped. She's always been that way; it's nice to have her back again."_

"_Then keep an optic on her. I'll…"_

Ironhide's last comment was interrupted by the sound of the rear cargo doors cycling open. The noise on the cargo deck became noticeably louder and the dim light was overwhelmed by the bright blue, cloudless sky.

"_**Thirty seconds to drop**_." The announcement came over the loudspeakers.

At the first crack of light, Spindle began to grin; subtle, cunning, and then almost feral. She turned to her compatriots, eyes shining.

"Last one down's a rusty cog!" and saying that she ran to the still moving rear doors and launched herself into the air.

"_**WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**_," the sound quickly becoming distant and faint.

"Aw SLAG!" Ironhide yelled as he ran towards the opening.

"Crazy femme," Jolt replied as he followed.

"_**GO-GO-GO**_" the loadmaster yelled as he motioned the bots toward the now completely opened doors.

With that the Autobots, who had escorted the still frame of their fallen leader, took a leap of faith on the word of a human boy with the hope of a second chance at life.

**Many thanks to the fine folks of Boeing, from whose web site I found the C-17 description and to Don Mayer's Parachute Shop web site for the parachute description. And the the U.S. Air Force, who allowed me nearly 10 years to serve my country and gave me an in on air planes and their crews.**


	22. Payback's a Femme

**How is the summer, er, I mean Spring treating you all? It's hot and very humid here in Maryland. There are times where one feels like a shirt being steam-ironed. **

**I hope you are in a cool, comfortable place right now. This chapter explores a wee bit more of Spindles past. I really liked writing this one. So glag the family was asleep as they'd send me off somewhere if they had heard me read the lines while I wrote them.**

**As always, many thanks for your time and comments. Enjoy...**

**Chapter 22 Payback's a Femme **

Finally, it had come; the day she would make the Decepticons pay for their slaughter at the crèche. She would make them pay for all the pain, spark-ache, for all the loss and destruction. She would wait, patiently for her quarry, and when he came to enter the fray, she would off-line Megatron with her own two servos.

"We got incoming" she heard over her audio link as she found a small hidey-hole near the ancient pillars that dotted the area. She needn't reply. She wanted total autonomy for this mission, total freedom, without the constraints she felt Autobots worked under. For all intents and purposes, she was still a civilian, still accountable only to herself and no other. And after today, it didn't matter; she made no plans for after this one battle. She would either survive…or not.

The sound of heavy thuds drew her attention to the coming of the Decepticons. Thirteen so far; at least that's what her scanners told her. They had also alerted her to the fact that there were already other 'Cons in the vicinity. Undoubtedly these had already been here, preparing for the others. She knew many of them, had fought a few, off-lined some of their compatriots on Cybertron.

She smiled.

"_Time you were all keeping your friends company in the Pit_" and she set her sights on a smaller 'Con; a thin raggedy-looking one by the name of Ransack.

He rose, unsteadily, from his landing site; the remains of a home, recently occupied by humans who had just left not too long ago. As he shook the sand and debris from his frame, Spindle could here him moan and curse about his situation.

"Fragging, lousy, landing site Soundwave; what the Pit is this place? Glitchin' fragger…Unicron's aft, what a slaggingly pitiful place this is…" and so on.

"_Always the gentlemech, aren't you Sack_?" she thought as she shook her head in mock glee as she flicked a stone off to the side of the newly arrived 'Con.

"Who?" Ransack looked around quickly, his beet red optics spinning in and out of focus his vents working overtime, trying to drive the heat of reentry from his small frame.

"Who's there?" he demanded. "CZ, that you? Show yourself, ya louse!"

A deep, malevolent chuckle was his only answer.

"Crumplezone…quit playin', where are you? Whydon'tyouanswercomeonbuddythisisn'tfunny…" His voice became high pitched, his movements frantic and he began to hyper-vent as the laughter came again.

"Stop this you glitchin' glitch head! It's not…" His face plates froze, his mouth open, optics wide.

"**Heh-heh-heh-heh"** the voice repeated, slow, steady, unnerving.

"C…Z?"

"**No**" a voice came replied. That one word, soft, silky, sensuous, malicious sounded quietly from all sides. "**Not CZ. Try again."**

The energon in his tanks churned and his fluids froze. His vents all but seized from too much movement and he felt he could lose his oil at any moment.

"Hey now, I'm just a soldier, a flunky, I don't know what's goin' on. I just do as I'm told…ya know…just following orders…"

"**I know; like all the rest. They followed orders too…right to the Pit." **And again the voice was soft, mellifluous in its tone and sultry in its slowness.

"Well…well…I…I'm not one to quibble…ah…whatever they did, I'm sure we at least can come to an…uh…understanding?" He turned around and around trying to locate the energy signal of the voices owner. "Please…?"

"**Ah, you pitiful mech. You should have stayed home. It was safer there. But now you are on MY territory, MY patch, MY HOME. And I will deal with you as I dealt with your comrades on Cybertron, in the Underground, so long ago."**

Ransack's optics grew wider win terror. He began to backpedal away from the voice, but still could not locate its exact position. He began to whimper…"no…nonononononononono…not you!

"**Oh yesssssss.."** and she sprang like a Earthly lioness on its already dead prey.

It came all too quickly for the hapless Decepticon as a mad-femme landed on his shoulders, clawing at his optics, trying to knock him sideways. The screaming, like a viral-banshee, nearly maxed out his capacitors and blew his audios after only a tenth of a breem. His stabilizers were still wobbly from return to gravity, and could not compensate for the repeated yanking of his head and he fell backwards into the sand and house rubble.

Suddenly, he felt sharp stabs in his appendages, pricks, cuts, slashes; across his legs, over his chest plates, into his arm joints. Each time, a fluid line was pierced, a cable severed, a bit of armor carved up.

"Slag, slagslagslag!" he cried to himself as he fought to regain control of his own frame. He could not lay a servo on her, let alone fling her off. Every time he thought to knock her off his battered frame, he ended up pounding himself with his own fist and compounding his injuries. He had also begun to tire. The little pokes and slashes added up to significant energon and fluid loss. If only he could he could get a piece of this slaggin' …AH!

"Gottcha ya glitchin' ghoul-femme!" he crowed as he finally wrapped his sore, bleeding fingers around Spindles chest plates. He hadn't noticed though, as he drew her frame towards him that she had managed to wedge her slender, sharp digits in-between the cracks of his chest plating. He did not feel the plates give way slightly, didn't comprehend the danger as she relaxed her entire frame and lay across his supine form. He only knew that he finally had the freaky, slaggin' femme in hand and he was going to teach her a lesson she'd never forget.

He turned his head to face hers and with his half functioning optic, noticed that she had the wild, almost crazed look in her optics and the sardonic grin on lip plates that few ever survived seeing. He felt a slight kink in his chest area and shivered as a brief gust of air passed over his spark chamber. And still the femme smirked and lifted her head slightly, comming him over the 'Con link.

_*_**This is for Sunstar and all the rest who followed him**_*_

He felt his cracked chest plate ripped from his protoform, felt the touch of this foreign worlds' air waft over his inner workings, felt the trembling of the femme in his grasp and then her felt the point of an energon blade slowly, effortlessly pass into spark chamber; and then, he felt no more.

Spindle lay in the dead mechs arms for a breem as she watched his one optic dim and his outer armor slowly fade to grey, the sounds of battle joined finally sounding in her audio. As if in answer to the frenzy around her, she ripped the blade out from the empty casing and screaming; screaming as if there were no tomorrow, plunged the blade back into the darkened chest several more times. She then pulled Sideswipes rifle from subspace and blew a portion of his head away, revealing the now off-lined processor. Wrapping her finger servos around what was left; she pulled it from Ransacks carcass and crushed it, its severed connections sparking and sputtering briefly before dying out altogether. The entire clash took only five minutes human time.

She smiled, and lifting up her energon soaked arms, gave voice to a hideously, fluid-chilling ululation. One that beings inhabiting the lower parts of Cybertron's great cities would hear at the war's beginning; when a Decepticon mech was off-lined, his spark shattered, his processor missing.

Ironhide heard it, as did Chromia. They looked knowingly at one another, shivering at its implications. Ironhide turned toward the sounds origin.

"Sounds like she got first kill."

"Primus keep her." Chromia responded.

"Hmmm," the weapons specialist muttered. Primus keep us… focused. Let's move out." And the heavily armored mech strode forward, followed by his mate and her two sisters, Arcee and Moonracer.


	23. Remembering

**_*Insert something pithy here*_ and now on with the tale. Dang, openings are hard to write. Hard to type to as I don't look at the screen when I type. Typos and misspellings have managed to slip by despite the best efforts of my Spell-Check. Guess I should have taken that secreterial course in High School... Please enjoy and leave your comments!**

_*speech* - internal communications between bots_

"_speech"- individual characters thoughts_

**Chapter 23 Remembering**

Spindle drug the mech's carcass into the crumbling remains of a humble mud-brick home. There was no time to examine its interior. Deftly prying open the remainder of Ransacks chest plating she scrounged around his insides until she found his Decepticon signal locator. If she dampened her own spark signature, the locator would be enough to disguise it from the Cons. She hoped though, that the locator was set low enough to not attract her Autobot comrades.

She made for the open side of the house while attaching the locater to her own chassis. Looking behind at the remains of the hapless Ransack, she spat at his chest plates, the spittle landing right where his spark used to be.

"_Waste of good spittle". _And she left the house; making her way towards the pillars on the edge of the Decepticon landing zone. As she waited she began to draw glyphs and symbols on her armor with the still wet fluids of her dead prey. She sat back on her heels and began rocking back and forth, murmuring,

"_Decepticon, Decepticon, come out my prey, little Spindle wants to play…_" her intakes and spark beats slowed to a steady rhythm, matching the mnemonic phrase. Over and over she murmured, "_Decepticon, Decepticon"_ until her whole frame moved in time to the pulse of her voice.

"Gotta a whole lotta fight comin' our way" she heard over heightened audial sensors. That was Epps.

"_Decepticon, Decepticon come out and play…"_

"How many of them?" Lennox voice came over her audios.

"_Little Spindle wants to play…"_

"About thirteen." Epps sounded worried and pissed at the same time.

"_Decepticon, Decepticon…_she began to chuckle; a deep, disturbingly baleful sound. With that quiet sound, her bright green optics took on an orange hue and began focusing in and out and she finished adorning herself with her enemy's oil by licking it off each long, slender digit, slowly and with relish. It was almost like the old days, when the war was in its infancy. Deep down, in the Underground, where few honest mechs ventured. She shivered at the memory.

The remaining Decepticons, in comet mode, hit the desert sand in quick succession, plumes of debris marking the places they landed. One thing Spindle gave them, their transformations were immediate and coordinated; weapons systems at on-line and battle plans already fed into their processors by whoever was leading this little incursion…probably Soundwave. That slaggin' Con had much to answer for, not the least was his ability to invade the processors of many unfortunate Transformers of both sides; a disgustingly intimate incursion that left most victims glitched at best and empty at worst.

"_Someday, I will see you emptied of every last bit of information you have ever possessed. And I'll stand there as your symbiots go off-line one after the other"_, she promised as she listened to the exchanges between the new could hear the Cons greeting one another. Joking about the primitive world they just landed on. How they outnumbered the Autobots and how easy this victory will be. It set her dentas on edge. They also began to wonder where their scout had taken himself to; Ransacks signal was close, but faint.

Spindle took that turn in conversation as a warning and began to slip towards the human troops.

"Alright, those Decepticons are searching for Sam. Whatever he has, he thinks will bring Optimus back to life. So, our mission is to find him and get him to Optimus." she heard from Major Lennox.

"_Optimus…Optimus… he was…he is the Prime…I…I know Prime...Primes…so many…so far away, so long ago…why is that important?"_

He continued, "Alright, we're gonna draw fire from the left flank. I need a scout team."

"I'm leading." There was no mistaking that voice as she snuck a look around the corner of a ramshackle hut.

"_That voice was from…someone…who…ah…that overbearing weapons-mech…the one with more cannons than processor…the one that couldn't protect…protect…the one who left his mate behind…the mate who was friend… ally… rescuer…Chromia. Chromia and Ironhide, friends…both friends._

"Go up through the middle with Arcee's group and Ironhide."

"_Arcee…and Chromia…and…and the other…Moon…Moon-something, RACER!…and they were they are…friends…my friends. Mine…my own…friends…and…and…"_

The sound of on-coming engines snapped Spindle out of her fugue. She shivered with the remembrance of her dark time. She had to find her way over to Ironhide's position, but thought it best to keep out of sight so she could finish off what Hides cannons and the weapons of the humans left behind. She'd make the most of her few skills and set an ambush for injured Cons, an ambush as they had not seen in vorns.

The quiet before battle, the storm, was finally broken by the sound of weapons fire coming from the cluster of houses roughly one-half mile from her position. The allies began to fire back, their weapons having some effect on Decepticon armor, but not much. Spindles spark began to pulse faster within its casing as she hunkered down behind the ancient pillars of an Egyptian temple.

"_Watch for them…wait for them…quietly. Never let them know you're here…or there. Scan their spark pulses as they near, wait…wait…wait…_

She scanned the area, sensing the signatures of Rampage and Ravage as the closest. The sound of jet engines overhead confirmed the presence of Starscream; and there was something else, two other faint, non-robotic blips…humans! There were two humans within Rampages chest cavity. Allies, captives…she couldn't tell from where she was hiding and moving in closer was out of the question. Waiting was all she could do, wait and wonder and hope.

Sideswipe ordered the troops to fall back. Whether it was a ruse or necessity, the move served the human troops well, as the Cons began to circle to their right towards the retreating group, giving Ironhide and the femme's time to take their positions to wait for the human boy.

As if on cue, Spindles heads-up display alerted her to the muffled pounding of two sets of pedes…no, feet, and the quite hammering of two human…hearts…_yes, that's what they are._ Two humans, breathing heavily from fear and exertion…running…running…out of breath and running right into a trap set by Rampage and Ravage. They ran, slipped and slid down a sand dune towards the waiting Decepticons

.

Again, the sound of the cursed jets of Starscream roared overhead. Spindle intercepted the short order the 'Con Second-in command relayed.

"**Rampage, spring the trap."**

"_Hostages, they're keeping hostages..._"

The two humans, being shepherded by Rampage, were shouting a name. One threw something towards the Decepticon. It was small and did no damage, but Spindle admired the ferocity and determination of the petite human.

"Sam…Sammy…" a name that she recognized. It was the boys name…they must know him or expect to meet him. He must be one of the two sliding their way down the dune. They were all running towards one another

Ravage continued to circle the shouting pair, nipping and growling as they continued to call to the boy and his companion…the girl…Mikaela…that's what Ratchet said her name was; it seemed so long ago.

Her attention was interrupted as the sounds of transformation began, followed quickly by a particularly odd "_SPROING" _that sounded as Rampage appeared in his newly modified root-mode. Jumping between the two couples, he shot towards the younger female and brought the boy up short, say uttering the boys name in his gravely voice. Her scans registered the fear the boy felt and yet she could also sense great strength and resolve.

"_Almost like the Prime" _she thought. And almost like the Prime, the boy…Sam…presented himself to the danger at hand. He did not flee as the older humans, his parents she had discovered, encouraged him. He stood before the menacing Decepticon, holding something, offering it to Rampage. I appeared to be a beat-up sock filled with…filled with…

Spindle focused and refocused her optics as she stared at the small bundle Sam held teasingly in his hand. It pulled at her. It called to her; whatever filled the foot-covering; and it began to take on a soft glow…almost imperceptible even to her optics. And there was music, quiet and awe-full. She felt her spark pulse in time with the muted beat of the music now filling both processor and spark.

She fell back against the wall she had taken refuge next to and slid down to the ground. With her optics off-lined she could only imagine the scene before her. Not that she cared at this point in time. All that was important was the sound and the light emanating from the small bundle held by the human, Sam Witwicky. All that mattered were the feelings of awe, peace and power, as dim images played across her processor. Memories, dreams, obsolete files, she was not sure, but they felt familiar, and she welcomed them as a lover caress was welcomed.

And then they were over.

Spindle rousted herself from the odd reverie, the sound of Bumble Bee's motor fading in the distance one way, while the footsteps of the two younger humans beat a hasty path towards Ironhide and the femmes. She decided to follow the boy…Sam…she must remember the name and possibly meet-up with the team again.

_**I'm glad you made it too the end and I hope that you enjoyed reading this chapter. Please let me know if you feel the time spent was worthwhile. I love this story and want to share it. The quiet is deafening.**_


	24. The Cold Dish

**Thank-you for reading. Please let me know what you think in the review section.**

**As usual...I only own Spindle and my imagination...**

* * *

**Chapter 24: The Cold Dish**

The quiet lull in the fighting was shattered with the renewal of heavy weapons fire from the Decepticons. They were aiming at an area just beyond where the b…Sam and…Mikaela had parted from his parents.

Scanning brought Spindle the answer…and she transformed and shot through the ruined village at top speed. The humans were holed up in that area and Ironhide's team was nearly on top of them. She'd have to pour it on if she was to join the group and escort the humans back to allied lines. Never had she felt such joy in her spark, never had she so desired to the company of her kind…not since Sun…no, think on him later. Find the others, destroy the Decepticons, feel, later.

She could see them now. Bright Moonracer, her purple frame moving purposefully through the remains of human homes. Arcee; eager, inquisitive, committed and Chromia…Chromia who was once as close as a sister; she envied their sister-bond. Would there be time to make amends, to ask forgiveness to be welcomed back into their fellowship? She was close…so close now.

An explosion rocked the small enclosure causing already shattered walls to crumble, filling the air with dust and debris. Another followed closely behind the first and they were joined with small arms fire and shouts, confusion and fear. She could hear Ironhide screaming…feel the overwrought fear and anger in his voice, and as she arrived at the small clearing she could see the reason; Arcee and Moonracer were down, their fluids staining the desert floor. Chromia was wounded as well; an arm was missing and half of her chest armor was gone. Ironhide was trying to shield her and shoot the encroaching Cons, but she insisted on flying out from behind him to hit and run and hit them again. She had always been feisty and self-confident.

Spindle took in the sight, two femmes down, one badly wounded and a mech on the verge of a berserker rage. Her processor clicked, she drove into the clearing, Sideswipes photon rifle transforming in her hands as her frame reverted to its root form. She shot from underneath the Cons, where they weren't looking and where she could fire at already weak chest plating. Three went down to the combined weapons of the Autobot mech and two femmes. They were finished off with the long, slender blade of energon carried by the newcomer, who was filled with righteous anger and anxiety, for her comrades.

In the meantime, the two youthful humans began to run towards their final destination. The separate Constructicons combined into their gestalt form as Devastator and the human military called in an air strike. Everything was moving too fast, to haphazardly. Spindle could not coordinate all that was transpiring, so she focused on the closet problem, Arcee and Moonracer.

"**IRONHIDE**", she shouted above the noise of weapons fire and explosions.

The black mech looked up.

"Spindle, what the slag…get to cover before you get hit too", he shouted back to her.

"Ahggggghhh, damn Mech…" she muttered, "HIDE…get her out of here", and she pointed to Chromia. "They're calling in an air strike."

"What?" He was still firing at the remaining Cons, as they retreated from his withering fire.

_*No time to explain*_

"Mia…Mia…CHROMIA!" _*CHROMIA!*_

_*I am here* _her commed voice weak.

Spindle looked around frantically at the dying femmes and then back to Ironhide as he gently embraced the wounded Chromia. No time…no time…no…

She smiled wickedly, a feral gleam entering her optics and a growl escaped her vocalizer. Quickly she reached behind her frame and into the recess holding the pretender nannite module. Pulling it gently from its location, she placed it on Arcee's broken chest plates and turned towards Moonracer's motionless frame. Gently she picked the shattered femme up and moved over to Arcee, laying her sister nearly on top of the pink warrior.

With practiced ease, she opened what remained of both femmes' spark casings and withdrawing input/output lines, she connected the module to their weakening sparks. Connecting her processors' I/O line to the module she began to reprogram it to cover the injured femmes.

Slowly, so slowly, she shut the rest of the world out. Optics shuttered, head bowed, she gently pulsed line after line of re-written code from her processor, coordinating and ordering the nannites into a new form, a covering shield that would protect the femmes from further disintegration and loss of spark. She could feel the nannites realign themselves, reform and recalibrate as they slithered and sloughed across the two shattered frames. It was as if time stopped and the rest of the world and its worries had disappeared to be replaced with silent fortitude and peace.

"There, it's done", she announced as she rocked back on her heels, slightly dazed. "This should protect them from further decay until Ratchet can get to them."

"SIDESWIPE!" Get your aft over here!"

_*Please…come quickly. I need you to take Arcee and Moonracer to safety.* _she commed.

The wheeled swordsman, ducking large and small arms fire, moved in quickly. Sand and debris flew into the air as he made a show of his "stop-on-a-dime" arrival.

_*Smart-aft* _Ironhide sent.

_*You love it, you know you do* _was his reply, flippant, yet on constant guard.

_*Shut it both of you. Sides take the sisters back behind the lines to Ratchet.*_

The twin stared at her in confusion.

_*What?*_

_*HERE…*_ she pointed down to the pair of femmes now covered with a clear shell, shining iridescently in the Egyptian sun. She knelt down beside them, scanning their life signs, ready to readjust the commands to the seemingly alive nannites.

Looking up and into his bright blue optics, her spark skipped, catching her mid vent. She nearly choked on the incoming air. She shook herself, amending her nannite program and releasing her I/O line. She placed her hand on the glittering shell, and drew in a small amount of air before looking up at the Autobot front liner.

_*The shell will protect them until Ratchet has time to help them. Just grab a bit of the edge and drag them out of here…before the bombers come!*_ the pitch of her comm., rising; her optics pleading with the warrior.

There were more explosions, but they were further away, concentrating themselves on the new location of Sam and his companion. The four bots looked quickly around them, wary of ambushes.

Sideswipe grabbed a portion of the shell. It gave slightly under his servos, like the cushion or one of those stupid pillows his twin Sunstreaker like to throw around their quarters. Looking around once more he turned toward his human allies and wheeled off, the shell leaving drag marks in the sand.

"Hide, here…" she grabs towards Chromia, "HIDE…wait…Mia can you hold on to his back?"

"I can try," she mutters weakly. Ironhide comprehends Spindles question and kneels down, allowing her to place Chromia on his back.

"Just …damn here…get her out of here… they've called in the B-1 bombers; they're on their way!" Spindle shouts towards the large mech. Her sensors alert her to oncoming enemies, though they seem to veer-off towards another direction.

*GO!* she sends, and Hide, cannons at ready, his mate, her servos twined through his armor, sets off towards allied lines.

But as Ironhide turns to make sure Del is following, he is shot in the chest. Chromia cries out in pain, yet manages to hold on to her mate. The weapons master returns fire then begins to run from the area and hopefully to safety.

After watching Ironhide move off, Spindle makes her way towards the direction that Sam and Mikaela had taken, right past a downed Decepticon whose head is nearly cleaved from his shoulders. Stopping, Spindle obliges his questing servos…

"Allow me," she hissed, and severed the remaining connectors, allowing the head to fall into now off-lined hands. Quickly she moves on, the two humans racing forward, the NEST position now clearly in sight.

Through the noise of explosions and angry shouts, Spindle hears Sideswipe yell, "Sam…spotted Sam.", from behind the human's defense line. She smiled thinking that the femmes were in good servos and the whole nightmare may soon be over when the boy reaches Optimus. But as she begins to leave the cover of the surrounding ruins, she is stopped short. A familiar presence is close by, one that is full of avarice and hate, one that she has felt even in her recharge time…Megatron. Megatron is here…he is close-by…he is …

There is fire, there is smoke, there are explosions and thunderous concussions and still Megatron follows after the boy, oblivious to all but his own greed, his own obsession.

"**22 covering fire: two civilians, covering fire 12'oclock!"** Spindle hears this over her comm. Someone has noticed that those two need help.

"**Hold the air strike, we're rescuing two civilians"** she hears Epps voice pleading with the oncoming aircraft.

"_It will not work" _she thinks. "_They have reached the point of no return" _

She doubles her efforts to reach the boy and his companion despite the close presence of Megatron.

"_The monster can wait, the boy will reach Optimus and then…and then…"_

There are more explosions as the human artillery fires upon the advancing Decepticon leader. More noise and the sound of projectiles hit armor plating shaped and molded in alien forges.

"**JDAMs inbound…"**

"_NO! Not yet!"_ her processor cries.

"**B-1's time on target, thirty seconds…2000 pound JADMS inbound…"**

Every circuit in her frame now sends self-preservation impulses to her processor; the processor in turn overrides the revenge order, replacing it in microseconds with the time honored FLEE order. Thus ordered Spindles gears, circuits, fuel lines along with the rest of her frame, turn from the projected bomb site and…

_*RUN!*_

Orange smoke began to rise from the ground around the location where the two human youths had fled. It was being used as a target for the B-1's and also did a good job of concealing those on the ground. Spindle knew that it was no impediment to robotic optics and noticed a Decepticon with a construction-build frame; began to sneak up on the humans' two-walled hideout. Sparing a look in the direction of Ironhide's escape, she sees him stop to take a few shots at advancing Decepticons, effectively corralling them within the bomb-drop zone. He receives another shot the chest which aggravates an already burning wound, nearly losing his mate, Chromia, in the meantime.

Chromia, her "good" arm laced through Hide's exposed exoskeleton, her optics flickering and dim, had also loosed two of her stronger cables to wind in and out of her mates frame and armor. She was in no fear of falling but the jostling she was receiving was not doing her any good.

There is little she can do. The 'Con…Brutebuild, was gaining on the small enclosure. The humans could not withstand his firepower no matter how many sabots they had with them. She had to get closer.

"**1-1 tally orange smoke…"**

After losing one of his panel shields, Brutebuild transformed into his static cannon mode and fires with deadly accuracy towards the human tanks in the distance. The sound of the weapons fire almost drowns out the familiar growling sounds that Spindle recognizes as Megatron's engines; his closeness giving her an almost over-powering desire to drive her tiny energon blade through his armored chest despite the fact that she would lose such a lop-sided battle. That thought was again interrupted by her processor reminding her of her own self-preservation code and she slipped down and around the remains of the temple pillars while she scoped out a clear path to safety.

But the battle becomes too intense, too close and escape seems a futile dream at the moment. The orange signal smoke has begun to curl around the humans hiding place, Bruteforce in laying down heavy fire, and Megatron is inching nearer and nearer to the boy. The air is filled with the sound of hurt and dying humans, the shouts and curses of Decepticons, the encouragement of the Autobots. Voices cheer, cry out, instruct, order, swear, threaten, cajole...The very air is charged with static from plasma and laser weapons, smoke from many fires chokes the lungs and intakes of human and robot alike. Dirt, dust and sand complete a picture of utter devastation and Spindle can only watch, can only record the battle on her hard drive as she is caught between what the humans would call "a rock and a hard place" between Decepticon troops on one side and Megatron and the rest of the 'Con interlopers on the other. And her preservation protocols are running hot and hard and if she cannot sort them out, cannot interrupt the cycle, she may glitch in place.

It all teeters on the edge of a knife…until…

From some distance away the air exploded in light, smoke and trans-dimensional energy explode in the distance and a large black aircraft…no…large black mech, comes stumbling into view. Barely able to right himself he plows into the ground

"Behold the Glory of Jetfire.", his voice, old-sounding, fierce, determined. He slashes Brutebuild in half and picks up the struggling torso, "NOW, let me know show you how we brought the pain in my day…" smashing Brutebuild's head and ending his life quickly, messily and with a finality that left not a few humans and bots breathing easier.

Save for one; save for Spindle.

The introduction of this odd mech sent Spindles processor reeling. Suddenly, at the sound of his voice, her memory files booted up and bringing her to a stand-still. She had no idea where or even how such information arrived in her own processor, but a single thought wove its way in and around her operational system…

"_Old One_", it said, "_Old One_…" over and over, "_oldoneoldoneoldone_…" How did she know, why did she know. He felt so familiar, so…so… Spindle shook herself. It was the second time she'd lost herself in an unknown reverie, and it could get her off-lined. But her thoughts still turned to the new mech…Jetfire, he'd announced.

"_I know him, I _know_ I know him_. How…when…where…?"

Her thought, only a micro-breem were brought to fore when the very ground in front of this Jetfire erupted and that damned symbiote, Scorponock threw itself into the frame of the old mech. Glowing blue energon flew from the massive wound and dripped onto the desert floor. Spindle flashed back to the sight of the sisters lying in their own energon and shuttered her optics.

"I'm too old for this crap!" she heard him say, and what followed sounded like the crunching of the creepy Decepticon symbiote.

"_One more 'Con on its way to the Pit." _And she smiled at the thought. But it faded quickly with…

"**Viper…Thunder!**"

Suddenly, she sees the humans break from cover and run flat out toward the defensive line and safety, she see the F-22's above target and hit several 'Cons as the try escape, she sees the boy, Sam, break from the others and veer towards the inert frame of Optimus Prime, she see the bomb-bay doors of the sleek B-1 bomber open and watches as a dozen or more Joint Direct Attack Munitions drop with an almost pin-point accuracy on the hapless 'Cons below. She sees a dark, menacing form emerge from the billowing smoke and debris, take aim and fire. And she sees the boy fly through the air and land with tank-wrenching finality.

Megatron; the vile, hated, evil waste of metal. Primus damn him for all his doings, for all his craven and callous machinations. Thoughts of the many slaughtered at his word or servo, memories…so many memories. But one above all bubbles to the surface of her memory file and bursts into her waking processor…the Crèche…the sparklings and younglings…Sunstar, her own, her sparkling, his tiny frame cracked and broken from the attack by two of Megatron's Seekers and his ground troops. There was no way now that her self-preservation protocol could override the seething hate she felt, or the overwhelming sense of revenge that now flooded her entire being.

The combined weapons of the humans and the Autobots sent a withering onslaught of firepower towards the Decepticon leader and it began to drive him back. She saw him turn and recognized the beginning of his transformation cycle. No…no way would she, could she allow Megatron unimpeded passage when she was so near to him. There were only seconds to make a decision. With an effort born of revenge, hate and desperation, Spindle launched herself at his retreating form; found purchase on the protrusions on his back was carried away.


	25. FacetoFace

**Thank-you for reading. Please let me know what you think in the review section.**

**As usual...I only own Spindle and my imagination...**

**Chapter 25: Face-to-Face**

The devastating firepower that was directed solely at Megatron was more than a simple nuisance, it was beginning to have a disastrous effect on his still healing frame and spark. He had to retreat; and that word burned in his processor as he turned from the firing line, to transform and escape to the safety of the pyramids' apex.

Quickly scanning the area for more foes, he did notice a small blip, but the signature was not worthy of the Lord of the Decepticons concern and he settled first in his tank form then molded his frame into his favored jet configuration.

It was in mid-transform that he felt a slight nudge just above his afterburners. He waggled his wings in the hopes that whatever it was would fall off and crash onto the pitiful mud ball of a planet below. This only brought about a sharp pain from his side panel as whatever it was dug in deeper and held on tighter.

"Slaggin' Pit', he yelled as he flew towards his Second-in-Command, Starscream. It couldn't be a human; there were none that he considered smart enough or strong enough to contend with him. He had noted that there were very few Autobot scum close enough to him to cause such trouble…was it one of Soundwave's irritating symbiots? Some new device conceived by his treacherous Second-in-Command to overthrow his rule? He was unable to lock a scan on the area due to heavy damage to those particular scanners. He would have to wait until he arrived at the pinnacle to discover the irritation.

"**STARSCREAM!**" the dread Lord of the Decepticons shouted as he landed with a bump upon the top of the ancient pyramid. He began twisting this way and that trying to detect the annoyance, his limbs contorting around his frame in an attempt to dislodge it.

Starscream pursed his lip plates and cocked his head to the side in an attempt to placate his superior. He pressed a servo to those lips, to keep from laughing out loud at his Lord's feeble and ridiculous movements.

"Ahhhhh…what is …what is this piece of scum clinging to my armor?" he growled at the Seeker as he tried to keep an unsteady pede-hold on the stone step.

Realizing the absurd position his gyrations put him in; Megatron raised his left arm towards his Seconds' face, the tip of his fusion cannon forming beneath the Seekers olfactory intakes.

Starscream, for his part, tacitly ignored the threat; he'd seen it and been the brunt of his Master's rage too many time to remember. He only grunted and allowed a breath of air to pass through his cooling vents before he acquiesces to his masters' question.

"Hold still…my Lord", he gripounds out through his dentas.

Slowly, his own weapon transformed in his servos, Starscream peered around Megatron's back to see the small figure of a femme clinging to the mighty leader's dorsal strut.

"Well…lookie here…it's a little femme…Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Said little femme had, in the meantime, unspaced Sideswipes rifle and shot the Seeker rapidly, in the chest and the face plates. Starscream turned away for the shots, which earned him a few more on his backside as well.

"AHhhhhhhhh…my face, my face…!" the Seeker screams

"Hold still slagger, let me put one right between your optics." Spindle yelled as she continued to fire. Realizing that Starscream is moving further away on the small platform of rock, she turned the rifle towards the Decepticon leader and presses the trigger.

The pain in his side from the laser blasts sent Megatron into a frenzy of twists and spins. The momentum of these continuing frenzied gyrations finally caused Spindle to lose her grip on his strut and she is scooped up into the waiting servos of a very angry Starscream.

"Gottcha!" came the annoyingly triumphant voice.

Roughly he enclosed her entire upper frame in his servos and brought her face plates directly to his. For this he received oily sputum just above the left portion of his lip plates.

"Ewwwwww…disgusting," he shouts as he tries, in vain to shake the mess from his face. "You'll pay for that femme!"

"Shut it Starsleeze, it looks good on…ughhhh…" Her comment was cut short by the violent grasp of Megatron as he rips her from Starscream's grip. In the ensuing transfer, Sideswipes rifle fell from her grasp and made its way, noisily down the steps of the ancient edifice.

"Well, aren't we the feisty one...?" the Decepticon War Lord gloats. "Chief Scholar Spindle, so nice to see you. Have you come to enlist with the winning side?"

"I'll KILL you!" was his only answer as she unsheathes her energon blade preparing to plunge it into the closest opening nears his spark chamber.

Megatron only laughed at her feeble attempts as he holds her away from his from and lets her dangle by her neck.

"My, my, my…what a shame, to have such vehemence wasted for the losing side. I suggest you stop struggling before I decide you are too much of a bother and let go" he sneered.

Spindles frame shook as she felt a hand reach and disconnect her blade from her own servo. She was then slammed into the pinnacle, her chest plates cracking, her helm and right side of her face dented and springing leaks from the myriad fractures and cracks that now appeared. Her legs are then enclosed in the vise-like grip of Megatron's powerful servo and she was flipped on to her back; the violent intensity of that change causing her vents to expel any left-over air and her spinal strut to crack into too many places to count.

"I will very much enjoy picking you apart, piece by piece when this battle is over. Or perhaps I will be merciful and leave you to my troops before I end you." She gasped a sob. Megatron leered at the broken femme, his optics a raging, violent red, the air around them silent, expectant, malevolent.

It was Starscream who broke the stifling silence.

"My Lord…" he began, an itchy feeling catching him just below his fuel tanks. He began to look around, curious as to why he felt as if he were being watched. "My Lord…Megatron…" he began tapping his leader on the shoulder.

"Not now Starscream" Megatron turned and shoved his clenched fist under the Seekers olfactory intakes. "Never interrupt me…"

"But my Lord…He's…" Screamers sentence was cut off by the servos around his throat.

"I …said…NEVER…disturb…me…"

"But…but…but…" came the strangled reply.

"But what, you Primus forsaken slag heap?" But Starscream did not have to answer that as the air around both them and the pyramid became still as a vacuum and then exploded into inter-dimensional concussions and a far mightier being appeared perched on the top most stones.

"Master," Megatron bowed in subservience towards the ancient mech. Starscream, finally released from Megatron's deadly grip backed away as far as he could without falling, trying to make himself smaller, less easily noticed.

The Fallen, former Prime of Cybertron, imagined master of all he surveyed stood tall and proud before the two cringing mechs. He turned his spike-riddled visage from his disciples, his optics darting around the small refuge until they alighted on the crumpled form of Spindle. With one elongated claw he began to prod the still from.

Then, as if struck by lightening, the ancient embodiment of evil reeled back in surprise and anger.

"YOU!" he shouted. "I know you. How are you here…online?" he leaned over the now convulsing femme and scooped her off the stone and into his wickedly sharp servos, his vents steaming, his optics aflame with fury, his voice now low, menacing.

"Do not bother yourself with her, My Master she is only…"

"**SILENCE**!" came the reply and Megatron back-peddled as if struck on the face.

"Fool, do not disturb me…YOU! You live?" He laughs. "Who would have thought, after all these millions of vorns? You're femme was quite wise in the ways of concealment."

Spindle could barely lift her head, the voice, the air of evil emanating from this hideous-looking mech, the pain she felt caused her to tremble violently. She moaned in fear, the agony of her wounds leeching any sense of boldness away from her frame along with her vital fluids. Her confusion causing her processor to spiral into crash alerts. She bowed her head.

The Fallen chuckled, low, vicious, mirthless.

"So **now** you have finally arrived at the proper state of obedience. I am afraid, little one, that it is too late for you. Your Femme was quite correct in concealing your continued existence; it is too bad she wasted her efforts. You are been a problem I intend to fix"

With that pronouncement, the exiled Prime lifted his staff, a long, thin blade of dura-energon extending from the tip and slammed it into Spindles midriff, just below her spark casing. He twisted the slender blade, nicking the chamber enough to cause tiny fractures to run upwards from where the blade touched the precious container.

He started, looking at her again with seeming wonder in his optics.

"What's this? You too have something to conceal as well, haven't you? I will deal with you later. I cannot have you off-lining too soon though."

"Master, you know this femme?" Megatron asked incredulously.

"It is none of your concern," came the vicious reply.

He turned towards the wretched femme, and an evil reddish glow appeared around the wounds in Del's chassis, sealing the wound on the outside and the ancient Prime began slowly retracting his clawed hand from her chest plates.

"There" he drew Spindle close to his face, "that should…help?" he snickered.

But Spindle's optics were not on the Fallen. Instead, through the only slightly less damaged left optic, she could focus in on the scene in the small village encampment below. And what she saw gave her one last thread of hope.

"Heh…heh…heh…_*cough* _You *cough-cough* all talk too much." A hoarse whisper left her vocorder. "The boy _*wheeze* _has succeeded." A smile parted her lip plates and she sagged into the Fallen's embrace contently, her laugh sounding like a sob.

"**FOOLS!" **he screamed as he threw the limp frame of the dying femme to Starscream's feet.

"Make sure she is still on-line when I return. We have unfinished business she and I," with a grandiose swing of his spear, he disappeared in a flash through a dimensional gate to the desert floor. Megatron can only stare after the concussive flash, rage battling with fury at this current turn of events.

But Starscream only smiled. He had other ideas about how to spend his time until the Fallen returned. He leans over the quivering femme and whispers, "My turn femme," as he silently slides his wing-sword from its sheath on his arm.

But before he can completely draw the blade, Spindle, with her last ounce of strength extends her own long talon-like finger servos and shoves them into the joints of the Seekers ankle plates.

"Whaaaaaaaaaaaaattt…ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…slaggin' femme, I'll show you!" and without any thought to the command of the Fallen, Starscream, Second-in-Command of the Decepticons kicked his pede out away from himself and dislodged the impudent femme.

_*Femme'll be off-line before the Fallen returns…lucky for you* _he processes and turns to wait for the ancient ones return.

For Spindle, the trip down the pyramid is much slower than her trip up to the top. Leaking fluids, half blind, unable to filter air through her vents and crippled from her broken spinal strut, she slid, unceremoniously down the smooth side of the ancient edifice that hid the sun-harvester from prying human eyes. Sliding, rolling, somersaulting, sometimes side-over-side, sometimes head-over-pede, she finally came to rest wedged in between the pyramid's broken limestone sheathing and a fallen block of ancient stone. There, resting as if preparing to drift off into recharge, Spindle cast her less broken optic to the sky above Egypt.

_*how beautiful. How beautifully blue the sky…the __sky…the beautiful, beautiful sky__, __what a lovely__…_ *


	26. The Reason

**_I apologize to you all for the mess I made with all the chapter changes. I still can't find the directions to how to change something once it's uploaded and I deleted where I should have left alone. I thank you so much for your patience. If any one can help please PM me!_**

**_Any way...Spindle is in a pretty bad fix (aside from a totally clueless, cyber-phobe of an author) and her next few moments will bring to light a more hapier time in her past. One might say it was her happiest._**

* * *

"_**The sky" she thought. "The beautiful, beautiful sky…**__**what a **__**lovely…..…**_

**Chapter 26: The Reason**

"Oh, what a beautifully marvelous sky, what a lovely day! I feel as if I could simply float away…"

"Primus sake, femme, you're all cheery this morning. I don't suppose you'd care to share that cheerfulness with the rest of us?"

Two femmes walked towards the lift at the end of the apartment complex hallway. The taller of the two was a deep dark blue and seemed to sparkle as she moved in the light. The other a smaller, more delicate looking femme in red and gold, was nearly skipping down the hallway like a youngling.

"Spindle, one more hop, skip or jump from you and I'll have Silverbolt **give** you that floating feeling!" Chromia, the blue femme, laughed.

"Oh, I seem to remember a sister femme all light-processored and mushy when she was preparing for her bonding day. In fact, I have a few vids I could…"

"You wouldn't!" Chromia stopped abruptly, hands on her hips, her optics mere slits now. She couldn't keep the expression for long as a lop-sided grin from her friend caused her to clutch her midsection in laughter.

"Slag-it Del, for someone who has spent most of her life in dark, dank caves and such, you certainly know how to make a femme laugh!"

"How do you think I whiled away my time in those dark, dank caves…hmmmmmmmm?" The small femme, Spindle, laughed and patted her friend on the shoulder.

"We ought to hurry. I'm sure your mate is fuming at how long we are taking. I can hear him now… 'What did you two do, go all the way to Four Moons of Alcor for a wash and wax?'"

"I heard they could be quite…nice." Chromia muttered, looking knowingly at her friend, until her face plates split into a wide grin and both femmes burst out in laughter.

They entered the lift and it closed on their reverie, only to open moments later with both spilling out of the car, laughing so hard they had to hold one another up.

"_Ah slag, now what?"_ Ironhide thought as he saw his mate and her friend in an obvious state of hilarity.

"What did you put in your energon today Del, nitrous with a bit of dioxide?"

"No silly mech…_snort…_it's just the very idea…_hah_…the Megatronssssss…_hehehehe_…finest security mech…_hahahahaaaaaa_…is my escort to…to..." Spindle could not continue and both femmes doubled over with continued hysterics.

*_Oh geez, not today Mia, we've got to get to get going now!* _Ironhide commed to his mate.

_*I know sweetspark, I'm trying, I really am.*_ she answered.

"Yes you are." He said out loud with a snort.

Spindle put his balled fist to her lips plates in an attempt to dampen her merriment.

"Sorry Hide. Chromia was telling me about your first night…"

"**WHAT**?" And the giggling began again as both femmes locked arms and started walking towards the official transport.

"**YOU DID WHAT**?"

"I did nothing of the sort love." And she rapped her knuckle plates across Spindles helm. "Don't be rude."

"Hey, if the friend who introduced you both to each other can't make off-color jokes, who can?" Spindle snickered as she stepped into the waiting vehicle.

Ironhide took Chromia aside for a moment.

"Seriously, is she high?"

"Only on life my love, only on life." She placed her servo lovingly on his chest plates, right above his spark and smiled up at him. Then with the fluid movement of a mechacat she stepped into the transport to join her still giggling friend.

"Humph…femmes." Hide snorted. He entered the front of the vehicle, nodded to the driver and they were off.

*_You know she loves us dearly.*_

_*Humph*_

_*I love you!*_

_*Humph. It just ain't right for a femme to make jokes about somthin' that's private is all*_

_*OH, like the jokes that were going around between you Ratchet, Bolt and the others at your Night-Before party?*_

_*Uh…ummm…point taken. I love you too.*_

He felt her chuckle through their bond and a smile curved up on his lip plates. He settled into the seat for the drive to the university.

0o0o0o0o0o0

The expanded lecture hall at Iacon University was huge even by Transformer standards with nearly three-hundred thousand seats, all of which were now filled with dignitaries, politicians, faculty members, friends, students and the just plain curious. In fact, the occupants of said seating had started to arrive half an orn before the doors were actually opened, and extra seating was moved in when that proved not enough. No one wanted to be left out of the lecture of the vorn, the lecture that would finally unlock the past and bring to light the Age of the Ancient Primes.

Chief Scholar Spindle, Head of the Antiquities department, had spent hundreds of vorns excavating sites on Cybertron, its moons and surrounding planets in search of the truth about the Prime Dynasty. She had found it, in the form of thirteen plaques and various writings hidden on Cybertron and in the far off places she had searched.

While there were a few detractors, Spindles only annoyance came from Megatron, Lord High Protector of Cybertron. Towards the end of her excavations, he had demanded that the only intact plaque be delivered to his quarters, before it had been thoroughly examined. Even her pleas to Optimus, his brother in Leadership, could not move Megatron to reverse his decision. And after more than a few harsh words wended their way between Spindle and Optimus, she turned her attention to her discoveries and settled into her normal routine of translating her finds.

And today…today would be her day to shine. This was the day she was to present her findings to the public and her peers.

Spindle had been feeling more than light on her feet. She was positively giddy with anticipation and completely satisfied with her work. All the vorns of struggle, hardship, deprivation and disappointment were over and Cybertron's past would be opened for all to see. She was looking forward to retreating to the second moon for a vacation before beginning her next project.

Spindle and her entourage arrived at the back entrance of the lecture hall and she and Chromia exited the transport through the door that Ironhide had opened. A light touch on his wrist plate caused him to look down.

_*I'm sorry old friend. That was in bad taste. Forgive me?*_

_*You need to find a mech of your own* _he commed back_._

_*What, Chromia didn't tell you? I've had my optic on someone for a while.* _a sly smile curved up the side of her lip plates.

_*Hey, is this a private conversation or can the mech's spark-mate join in?*_

Hide chuckled as he swept his arm around Chromia's small waist. "I've got no secrets from you love. But what's this about Del and a mech?"

"Oh just some mech she saw while at the opening of the new art wing of the University about 20 vorns ago." His mate stated flatly.

They began to make their way in side the building, a puzzled look made its way across Ironhides face plates.

"He's not an artist is he?" he asked protectively.

"No," came Chromia's curt reply

"Musician?" His optic ridge elevated slightly in a concerned wrinkle.

"No!" Her hands on her hip plates, she fired back the same reply.

"He ain't no rabid fan-mech is he?" Ironhide planted his treads on the stairs a look of exasperation on his faceplates.

"Oh for Primus sake, no!" Chromia pushed her way past Ironhide, Spindle followed; a smirk on her lips as she passed her oldest mech friend.

"Then he's…he's…" Ironhide's optics lit up brighter than they had been. "What IS he…exactly?"

They stopped on a landing just behind the doors that led to the reception area and Spindle twirled around to face him.

"He's an…uh…entrepreneur!" Spindle stated with an enthusiastic smile and flinging her arms into the air. "And a stunt-mech", she said in an almost unheard voice, as she quickly turned away from the massive mech.

"Ah wha…ahh…aw femme, you know them stunt-mechs are not the most stable bots in the universe."

"That's what I heard you'd said about archeologists some vorns ago," she smiled to him.

"Oh…uh yeah…'bout that." Ironhide rubbed the back of his helm. "But…but…"

Spindles smile turned into a grin. "Well, that's what I thought about security guards so I guess we're even. Anyway, of the two, he seems to have a good head on his shoulders.

Ironhide walked up the remaining stairs and opened the door to the back stage area. It revealed a room full of well-wishers, hangers-on, fellow faculty and the press. It was only then that Ironhide was able to put the pieces of the conversation together, the full weight of what she had revealed finally making sense to him. He whirled around faster than his bulk would imply.

"_**Not them!**_ Pit Del, the one may be a bolt short of a dozen and the 'good-looking one' is the vainest mech I've ever had the displeasure to hear about. He's left a trail of broken sparks from here to Ceti- Seven and back. No Del, I won't stand for it."

He ended in a shout that had everyone looking towards the small band. The assembled company sttod stock-still opened mouthed, fans and vents whirring in an otherwise silent room.

_*Good going Loud-hide.*_

_*Sorry Mia. I just won't allow Del to be the next in a long line of…* _

Spindles small hands grasped his larger ones and he heard her laugh. High and happy, like a sparkling who has had its belly plates tickled.

"What makes you think I like that one? His vanity makes him rather dull and incredibly unattractive." she smiled. "No…it's the other I find rather attractive in a quiet sort of way. He's very good at what he does; I admire that. And I like watching him **and** his brother work together. It's rather like a dance" She leaned in close to him and whispered up towards his audios "When I see him, my spark sings." The color rose in her face plates and she put her hand up to her to cover them.

Drop-jawed, Ironhide was ready to continue when Perceptor called from across the room.

"Chief Scholar…Chief…oh you have arrived…finally! I was becoming quite concerned about the shortness of time between Soundwave's performance and the revealing of your findings…"

"Thank-you Perceptor," she responded placing her servo on the harried scientists shoulder. "You know how I hate waiting in the wings. Guess I did cut it a bit fine today," and she ducked under Ironhide's arm as he raised it to scold her.

"I will accept that statement as an apology. I am sure the attendees enjoy Soundwave and his particular form of musical diversion, but to leave those here who wish nothing more than to congratulate you on a task that was at first thought to be…"

"Shhhhhhhh, he's almost done, I want to hear this ending," Spindle whispered as she walked to the entrance of the stage area, drinking in the incredible sounds of Cybertron's leading vocalist.

As last note faded away, the stunned audience broke into thunderous applause and cheering. Calls for a third encore were waved away by the performer and he left the stage with the sounds of an appreciative audience giving no sign of letting up.

Soundwave walked backstage to more applause from those assembled. Spindle walked up to him, her servo extended, optics wide.

"Thank-you so much for sharing your talent with us, your music has kept me sane throughout this entire research," she smiled at the imposing mech, her vents cycling faster and faster as she tried to complete the sentence. He stopped and took her hand.

"My thanks Chief Scholar. May I say that I am eager to hear your presentation? My compliments to you," his monotone voice totally out of character with the incredible virtuosity of his performance.

"Thank-you," she said meekly, a trace of awe in her voice. She looked over to her two escorts and saw them nodding with laughter at her fan-femme reaction. Her only response was to smile again and unspace her data pad, pretending to peruse its contents.

The sounds of the audience soon quieted and Perceptor walked before them to announce Spindles discourse.

Del took a moment to look around the area. She wanted to remember everything, keep it in her processor, and file it away with other treasured memories. The sound of polite applause woke her from her reverie, and she found that her pedes were moving the rest of her frame towards the stage.

She stopped at the edge of the stage and peered around the corner into the hall. She was taken aback at the enormity of the room and the sea of optics all trained on her small frame. The light of blue, yellow, red and orange optics, even the rare purple and green scattered throughout the spectators, swam before hers.

"So many colors, so many Transformers waiting to hear of their past. Primus help me, I'm not sure I can go on with this," she thought to herself. Somehow, the tensions that had been building for the last several vorns, since the attack from the _ was not in attendance here today.

_*I'm going to hurl my tanks…get me out of here*_ she commed to Chromia and Ironhide.

*_Vent deeply and picture everyone in their protoform* _Chromia commed back.

A snort sounded from Spindles olfactory sensor as she turned towards the side where Megatron's two best security guards stood snickering.

_*Eeewwwwwww! That's so…so…inappropriate. I like it! Thanks.* _And she turned back to the audience, most of whom were now quiet and attentive. Drawing air deeply through her intakes, she began to step forward.

But a sudden movement towards stage-left of the auditorium brought murmurs from the crowd as Optimus Prime moved into a private box. Next to Prime, a deep, rose-colored femme appeared and Spindle' intake caught a breem or two.

_Elita__**.**_ Elita had come. She had come to hear _**her **_presentation. Elita had recently lost a sparkling and had kept herself sequestered for nearly one-hundred orns. She allowed only Cybertron's Chief Medical Officer Ratchet to visit, in order to monitor her recovery.

Optimus too, was deeply affected by the loss and his spark-mates distress. He had removed himself from all but the most vital of engagements for a goodly portion of those one-hundred orns. Only his brother-ruler's cajoling with added reminders of responsibility to his people and planet from the High Council, brought Optimus out of seclusion sooner than his mate.

But today…today was the first time any, save Ratchet, had seen the couple together and in public too! A whisper of surprise and astonishment greeted them as they entered the private box set above and to the side of the main stage. Spindle looked off-stage towards her friends. Chromia's face plates beamed in joy and the knowledge of a secret well-kept.

The whisper became a sibilant hum; that hum turned into cheerful calls and became thunderous applause and wildly excited cheers. Optimus nodded in majestic acknowledgement and Elita's face plates held the hint of a gracious smile as she moved closer to her mate. Megatron, his blood-red optics flashing excitement, anticipation and impatience, followed them in as the applause began to die down and the three seated themselves.

Optimus turned towards his mate and placed his massive arm around her shoulders. Elita smiled up at him then turned her face towards the stage. Catching Spindle's optic and smiling slightly, she placed her hand on her chest plates, just above her spark and tapped them twice, turning the palm outwards toward Spindle. It was a sign of deep affection and support that came from deep within Elita's mending spark.

That gesture and its meaning was the most precious comment she had ever received regarding her work. Even in her sorrow, Elita still had room in her spark to offer her friend and colleague her deepest support and friendship.

Spindle, shuttered her optics and placing her own hand over her spark, bowed her head slightly at the proffered sentiment. She felt deeply humbled. Then drawing a deep gust of air through her vents, she stood straight and proud, placed her servos on the podium, her gaze taking in all who were in attendance and began to speak

"Lord High Protector, Prime, my Lady, and fellow Cybertronians I thank you for your interest in these studies. It has truly been a monumental discovery for all of us. There are so many who deserve recognition in this undertaking. I know they are listed in the data stream you have received. Please, please remember the, as they truly have been the spinal strut and very energon of this venture."

"Without further ado, I announce and proclaim that indeed, we have proof of the Dynasty of thirteen Primes, the first-born of Primus children." She looked out at the audience as voices of surprise, shock, denial and acceptance filled the air. She then looked towards the private box to gage to attitude of its occupants.

Optimus was nodding slightly, his face set in a neutral expression. Megatron's face plates appeared almost fanatical. His bright red optics were wide and whirling with excitement. He was leaning over the edge of the railing of the private box a feeling of agitation surrounding his frame. It startled Spindle and she took a step back as if trying to escape the odd elation coming from the mech.

Recovering quickly, Spindle waited until most of the voices had quieted before she continued.

"A search of Cybertron, its moons and planets in the surrounding galaxies…" and so it went for half a cycle. With data, images and artifacts, she enthralled her audience until…

"In this next vid-image we see…" She stopped, her mouth plates slightly ajar, optics unfocused, her frame relaxed yet attentive. Slowly she shuttered her optics a look of serenity moving over her face. The audience was still. Not even the whirs and clicks of the assembled mechanical beings could be heard, and as suddenly as she had closed them, her optics opened, glowing with an inner light. She looked out over the audience, their very venting silent and expectant.

Without focusing on any one bot, she announced to those waiting, "The All-Spark has called me."

Silence that lasted an eternity descended over the rapt onlookers. Many faces reflected shock and disbelief. Others, sheer joy and delight at the announcement. To be in the very presence of a femme who had received a call to the All-Spark was the epitome of nearly every Cybertronians life. For the call meant only one thing…a new spark was waiting. A spark directly from the All-Spark, not one from the combination of a bonded couples entwined CNA. The last time a femme had received such a gift was shrouded in the past and the records lost.

A stunned silence continued throughout the hall. Spindle began to walk, no; she seemed to float towards the off-stage area, heedless of questioning optics and servos that reached out to touch hers. Even Ironhide and Chromia were stunned to near immobility, staring at their friend and charge. It was only the sound of heavy footsteps that brought them back to themselves.

Optimus was the first to react to the news. Leaving his seat, he made his way to the stage and out towards the side that Spindle had just left, Elita following. Carefully, so as not to frighten her, he took her by one elbow joint, Ironhide held the other and they steered her towards the exit motioning for Elita and Chromia to follow. Together, they made their way to the streets behind the lecture hall. Ironhide called for the transport and all five entered and sped away to the temple at Simfur, where the All-Spark rested.

During the two cycle trip, Spindle was quiet, her optics neither focused nor unfocused. No one spoke, no one commed one other. All were silent. And the look on Elita's face plates was one of quiet bliss and sad resignation.

0o0o0o0o0o0

The Acolytes at the Temple were a fastidious group, insisting on complete reverence and absolute decorum from all visitors. So it came as a disturbing shock when, as they went about their afternoon chores, a transport squealed to a halt before the entrance depositing three femmes. They were followed by a rather large and heavily armed mech. Of course weapons of any kind are not allowed inside the temple and the acolytes began to make their way to the small group to warn them off.

They were stopped in the tracks as Optimus Prime stepped from the vehicle and began to shepherd his companions to the door. They were greeted by the Chief Acolyte, Wayfarer.

"Greetings Prime, it is indeed an honor to have you visit us. And I see that you have brought her."

"You know then?" he replied evenly.

"Yes Lord Prime, the information was shared with me shortly before she was called."

He moved with great dignity and reverence to Spindle. She simply stood, blinking her optics as she took in the enormous building, her processor dizzy with the info dump it had received from the All-Spark.

"You've rebuilt," she whispered almost off-handedly.

"Indeed we have my Lady. We have been most fortunate to have had much assistance in the rebuilding. The walls have been reinforced and…but that is so unimportant."

He moved closer to Spindle, took her servos in his and began a formal greeting.

"Femme, you have been called to partake in one of the most joyous events of a Cybertronians life. That is to bring a new being into our world. Though bonded mates are usually the recipients of this joy, honor and responsibility, the All-Spark will call an unmated femme to bear a remarkable spark. Spindle, daughter of Cybertron, do you accept this calling?"

Looking directly into his optics she smiled and replied, "Yes, I do."

Nodding, he turned towards the broad steps that led to the entrance of the All-Spark chamber and escorted her as far as the massive doors. Though damaged by the battle some vorns ago, the doors were still beautifully carved with glyphs and pictures of robotic life.

Spindle shivered a little as these massive doors parted, but she began walking, almost floating, towards them as she felt the All-Spark draw her in further. As she passed into the shadowed chamber, several acolytes made to enter with her. The doors swung shut with finality, and they were left to stand alone, concerned and embarrassed.

"It would appear," Wayfarer remarked, "that the All-Spark does not need our help. We shall wait." And he promptly sat down on the stairs to await Spindles reappearance. The others did the same save for Ironhide.

"Nah," he quipped, "Someone needs to stand guard over y'all, guess that will be me." He winked at Chromia and she commed him.

_*Guard huh? You're just too old and creaky to get back up*_

_*You've never complained before*_

She only giggled silently to herself at his return com, a smile lighting up her optics.

_*Someday that will be us.* _Chromia commed.

_*Any time love, any time*_ Ironhide smiled back.

Off to the side, Optimus held his mate wrapped in his massive arms. He had been slightly disappointed that Elita had not also been called. Elita felt his sorrow over their bond, her response was one of love and hope and excitement. Surprised, he looked down to her and she smiled in return.

"One day, my love, one day" she murmured, and lay her helm against his chest to wait.

0o0o0o0o0o0

The interior of the temple was quiet and shadowed. No one was in attendance, even the guards had been removed from the place on the main floor in front of the All-Spark cube.

Spindle had entered from the main entrance which opened on high balcony that encircled the entire floor overlooking the Cube. One-third of the ways from the entrance on each side were a set of stairs leading down to the main floor. Looking around, she noticed passageways that led off into other parts of the temple. These were dimly lit and she noted that they too were empty. She was truly alone. She closed her optics and quieted her spark so that she could better hear the pulse of the Cube.

Slowly, deliberately, she made her way to the left-hand staircase and descended into the most sacred area on all of Cybertron; the resting place of the All-Spark Cube, the direct link to Primus, their creator.

The air was warm, the currents soft, almost like a lovers caress. Light reflected from glow-torches glittered off the Cube itself and lent an air of hushed mystery to the entire area. As she descended, Spindle felt vibrations pulsing from the Cube. They drew her ever closer to her final destination while bringing her spark into alignment with itself.

Finally she found herself facing the massive colossus; her frame relaxed her spark in tune with the pulsations coming from within the Cube. Lifting her hands upwards, she found the cube turning one of its sides to her. She reached up to it and traced along the glyphs that were carved into its face.

The face before her was empty; devoid even of light. The quiet emptiness overwhelmed her, but she was unafraid. Someone else was with her, someone of power, of might and of love. She could see nothing but her spark knew and it was well.

Suddenly light sprang up from the nothingness. It turned and wove its way through itself and spun back to shape tiny spheres of burning radiance. The sight left her dazed and she stepped back, away from the cube as it rotated another side to face her.

This time as she touched the new side pictures appeared in her processor. Faces, forms of creatures older than any she had ever seen…"the Primes" it whispered to her. The cube turned again and she ran her long finger servos over that surface as well. This side spoke of the coming of Primus' children, those who came after the First Thirteen. Smiling, she let her fingers linger on the shining surface.

Slowly rotating again, the newest side presented itself to Spindle. This side engulfed her very spark and processor in feelings of utter and delirious joy and crippling despair. Euphoric optimism mingled with misery and desolation. Grief struggled with rejoicing and turned to anguish and then to delight. But behind it all, in the background were the flickering, delicate wings of Hope. And where there is Hope, there is Life.

Spindle shrank back from the revelation. It had frightened her to her core and she was unsure whether this was a true vision. Had it happened already, would it happen in the future or was there a possibility that it might or might not happen. The possibilities were endless, frustrating and terrifying.

She nearly lost spark. She nearly turned to run back to the stairs and up and away from this frightening unknown. And just as started to turn her processor to flight, a simple melody flitted through the still silence; a simple tune, unremarkable, yet enthralling, spellbinding. It was a tune sung, by a femme-creator to her sparkling, by younglings in play, by lovers as they held one another, by friends, by family, by Creation.

It lulled her with its simplicity, caressed her with tranquility, it soothed her over-heating processor and quieted her fiercely pulsing spark. All desire to flee disappeared at the sound of this majestic melody and Spindle was once more drawn to the cube as it hung before her. Placing her servo tips on the Cube once more, she surrendered herself to the song as it washed over her.

Peace and strength, hope and love were in the song and Spindle felt them all and knew she could carry any burden granted her. She was ready now and she waited for the final side to bring its face before her.

The last side of the All-Spark Cube passed before her eyes, its smooth featureless side glowing with the light from the nearby torches. Spindle stepped closer than she had before. She placed her optics mere centimeters away from the surface but found no glyphs, no indentations, and no markings of any kind. Confused, she placed her hands over her spark, shuttered her optics and waited in the silence.

She lost track of time, lost track of her place in time, her only thoughts turned to that tune coming again as it had before, from the All-Spark itself. She smiled and spread her arms out before her. A beam of golden light swept across the face of the Cube and then over her frame. It focused on the area above her spark. Joyfully she unlatched her chest plates and let them slide apart to reveal her glowing white-gold spark. As if it knew what was happening, her spark pulsed and nearly leapt out of its casing.

The golden light engulfed her entire frame in its glow and scanned her spark. Her processor was syncing itself with the gentle vibrations now coming from the Cube. Her life, as she remembered it, from her first awareness to this moment flashed before her processors optic and suddenly all was dark, all was silent.

Spindle waited in the dark quietness. Even the click and whirr of her own parts could not be heard. This moment was heavy with anticipation. She worried that she might suddenly be rejected and turned away. She wondered if there was something in her past that would abruptly cause her to be denied the sparkling that she so fervently wanted. Her fears began to overtake her and she wanted to cry out, to beg for a second chance, to plead…

But there was no reason to worry. As suddenly as it had grown dark, the Chamber was awash in light and song. Coming from within the very center of the Cube's last side was a tiny blue-white light; a small essence of radiance…a sparklings spark.

Spindle lifted her servos and the tiny light came to rest in the middle of her palms. She shuddered as she held the new life in her hands. It tickled, it shone, it…it giggled at her and she laughed back at it.

"Come love, it's time to come home" she said. Bringing her hands up to her open spark casing she tipped the newly formed spark into her gestation chamber where it would finish coalescing and grow strong. Her plates snapped back in fierce protection of the new life and she bowed, once again placing her hands over her spark.

"I will not fail to protect this life. I will give my all, to love and care for this, my sparkling. I will not betray your trust. This I swear Primus, to you and The Almighty." She stood upright and tall. Confident in her love for her creation and honored to be the one to carry this spark to its full term.

The doors to the temple opened before her. She did not know how she had even arrived before them, but she could just make out the outlines of her friends waiting on the temple steps. They rose as one and turned in her direction, anticipation on all their face-plates, even Primes'.

Wayfarer came up to her. In a hushed and reverent voice he asked, "My Lady?"

She turned to him, a smile widening across her face; she placed her hands over her spark and replied, "It is a mechling"


	27. Chapter 27

**Thank-you to those who have reviewd the story thus far! I really like to hear from you all. It makes the effort of writing even more enjoyable. And it tickles me that just knowing that it has been favorited or put on an alert by some of you. **

**I apologize for the very updates. I'm stuck on the next few chapters and somehow I think the cats scared off all my bunnies.**

**Well, the battle is over. In a face-off (can't resist a pun), Optimus has defeated The Falllen and Megatron and Screamer have left, and the bots and NEST must begin to pick up the pieces...**

**Chapter 27: Aftermath**

The frames and parts of frames of off-lined Decepticons littered the floor of the desert; smoke still billowing from fires too hot for all but the most hardened Autobot to approach.

The Autobot forces had begun to gather their wounded and count the missing. The nanite covering from the module Spindle had given the two injured Autobot femmes, seemed to act as stasis pod, enabling their repair-cycles to kick in and begin the arduous task of repairing the nearly off-lined pair. Chromia hovered nearby between her sisters and her battle-damaged mate.

"Enough Femme," Ironhide barked as a furious Chromia picked in and around his chassis wound. "I'll be fine; nothing my repair mode can't fix."

"Repair mode? Damned Mech, you just have to be the last one out of the field, don't you?" his mate yelled back at him. "Here, give me that! You're worse then a youngling with his first bent frame." and she took the welding gun from his oversized servos and began to weld together numerous cracks around the wounded area.

"SLAG-IT that hurts Chromia!"

"Serves you right, first my sisters, now you…Primus spare me from over-zealous mates!"

"What, you got another one?" he snickered.

*CLANG* A wrench flew through the air and made another dent in the weapon-specialists helm.

"Shut-up both of you, I got patients here." Ratchet roared, "And your arguing does nothing for their recovery!" He turned back top monitor the cycle–sisters and their repair status.

"Humph…sorry."

Human troops were also tending to their wounded and their dead. The acrid smoke from the fires of the ordinance dropped by US bombers filled the air and left the area looking like a scene from Dante's Inferno. The only redeeming aspect was that the Fallen was well and truly off-lined, Megatron had been sent scampering and both Sam and Optimus were rather battered pictures of health.

Sam was entwined in the arms of Mikaela while his parents divided their attention between admiring their son and answering questions about their capture in Paris. The unreal aspect of this encounter with aliens bent on destroying the Earth had yet to completely sink into their minds. All they could comprehend was that their Sammy, saved the day and was alive and well and would explain it all to them…soon.

Away from the noise and constant motion of his troops and allies, Optimus Prime stood, one hand on his hip, the other holding the Matrix, its blue-white light bathing his face plates in its glow. He opened himself to its call and was immediately immersed in the tides and eddies of the power that was now available to him. He felt the Matrix's healing energy move throughout his frame and he bent himself into its buoyant caress. Slowly the tide of ordered calm smoothed over that worn connections and overheated servos and he vented a content sigh. The matrix had restored his physical injuries, but the mental wounds would take a while to heal.

With a newfound insight, Optimus began to seek for ways in which to assist the injured of both his troops and their human allies. What seemed orns to him were in fact only a few seconds and as he disconnected his mind from the Matrix he joined Ratchet and the makeshift medical treatment area.

First Aid stood to full height for a moment. She had been retrieved from the nearby aircraft carrier and brought by a navy chopper to assist in repairs when the battle was over. A trip she did not want to repeat. For nearly four human hours, she and Ratchet were focused only on those in their immediate field of influence and had no time to wonder about any missing Autobots. But now, with the wounded bots stabilized she began to take a count of those gathered together.

Turning, she watched in quiet awe as Prime approached the medical area. Her spark had nearly flickered out when she heard of his off-lining but seeing him now, apparently healed and healthy, made her feel that the hope she looked and longed for was very close. She sent a silent prayer of thanks to Primus and nodded to him as he grew nearer.

"Prime…I am honored." She gave a half bow. "We are nearly finished with the wounded and will be able to transport them to the human's ship soon. Ratchet has been attempting to interface with the nannite shell but has yet to find the correct frequency." She looked over to where the CMO knelt, nervous tension playing over his face-plates.

"Any success?" he asked quietly, afraid to disturb his friend's concentration.

First Aid caste a sad look towards the medic as he seemed to collapse in defeat, only to jerk himself upright to begin again, the silent curses becoming more noticeable as time wore on.

"Slaggin' pit, how in the name of the nine pits of Hell did she activate this thing? Blasted femme is a walking menace with this tech. Glitched…that's what she is…glitched…recharging on my hood…in front of everybot…"

"I suggest then that we leave him to his own devices." Prime almost chuckled. It felt good to laugh, even if it was only a small one.

Both Prime and medic turned from their beleaguered compatriot and began walking towards the evacuation zone to offer their assistance.

A soft desert breeze began to disperse the smoke and the scene of battle began to take on a less eerie look and feel. Medics and mechs began the arduous tack of retrieving their fallen human comrades. First order had been to find the injured and get them to treatment. But now, their sad task was to recover those who were lost, identify them and prepare the bodies for transport to the proper resting places. Though complicated by the addition of Jordanian troops and the devastating explosions of the bombs, all humans were accounted for. Only one Autobot remained lost and was not answering the general call; Spindle.

It was hard to pick up the locator pings of Autobot troops even when in line-of-sight. The residual effects of Starscream's EMP blast were weakening as unaffected equipment was brought in but Spindles locator was off-line. The last anyone had seen her; she had given both Arcee and Moonracer her pretender module. It had greatly helped both femmes begin the healing process but Arcee was still in stasis lock and Moonracer was only now beginning to stir. Chromia, on the other hand, was badly scorched and had one arm missing. The tires of her alt mode were shredded and she had to rely on her mate Ironhide for mobility. This was fine with her as it gave her more of a chance to tend to his wounds personally.

She turned to Optimus, "Prime, she pulled Cee and Racer over to Sideswipe and yelled to him to get them out. Then she threw me on 'Hides back, the lug, and I lost sight of her when we ran for cover."

"I want her found…now" Optimus called to troops both human and Cybertronian.

_**Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh little one, shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. All is well. The mean old bot is gone now. Maybe we can be together now? I so **__**want to**__**hold you**__**againnnnn..**_

Privates Thomas Elting and Aaron Furst were best of friends. They had each others back in every fire-fight they'd been in since joining NEST. Today was nearly their last but somehow both young men had made it through the battle with Megatron and his minions, showing only a few scrapes and scratches and a slight ringing in their ears from the bomb drop. They were assigned to search and recovery.

"Yo, T, this is the last time I come through a rough patch with nothing to show for it." Aaron complained.

"What the hell…what's that mean?" his partner asked rather perturbed at his words.

"Man, we could be lazin' on the medical ship as we speak, but noooooo…we got ourselves added duty…cause we are so unscathed."

"Dude, you're nuts!'

"Nuttier than a fruitcake, but it takes one to know one…" Aaron grinned in mock maliciousness.

Thom snorted, "And I love you too…jerk." They both snorted in laughter.

He turned his attention to the base of the partially destroyed pyramid.

"Let's try over there. Maybe we can find some leftover 'Con hardware. I could use a couple of real heavy paperweights."

Aaron rolled his eyes and followed his friend over to a mound of fallen stone and harvester parts. They began to climb over the downed monument, picking their way carefully through the debris the ancients had thought immortal.

"Hey Furst…take my picture." Thomas shouted as he pulled out a small digital camera. As he threw it to his companion he smiled a cheesy grin and posed like some mighty hunter of old.

"Mom always begs me for a picture. This should hold her till I get leave." And he flexed his right arm to emphasize the dramatic pose. "Course I'll have to photoshop all the NEST stuff out…and get permission to send it…and try to come up with some sort of believable story…aw crap…what the hell."

"Just don't let…

"mmmm-aaahhhh."

Both soldiers immediately came to full alert, weapons at the ready and stood back to back.

"What the slag was that"? Tom whispered.

"Dunno." came the reply.

"mmmm-uhh-uhh-oooooh." The sound was slightly louder this time and sounded as if it came from the very rock itself.

"_**I…I…am…I'm…flying…I'm flying…I'm flying…ImflyingImflyingImflying!" **_

"_**Staaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaars, stars, stars, stars, stars, stars… there are stars…so many of them. They shine so, they sparkle and glitter like the Crystal Gardens, they surround me…all of me. Even the whole of space cannot keep their shining loveliness hidden behind the dust clouds or particle waves or even the constantly changing patterns of the very galaxy itself."**_

"_**I am flying, I am floating, I'm gliding through the stars; I am with the stars. Through the edges of the galaxy they shine on me, happy to see me among them. Their light reaches out for me. Their essence caresses my frame from my face plates to my pedes. Their soft touch passes over my wings sending quivers of pleasure and delight through me. "**_

"_**I hear them sing. They sing the song begun by the Great Creator and carried within the entirety of His Creation. I know it…I know this song, I have heard it before…I have sung it myself and it has carried me to the highest awareness and I can see; I can see everything. And it is so wonderful! All of Creation joins in as I too wrap myself in the tune that has no beginning and no end." **_

"_**I fly…for myself, for my people, for life and hope and joy. I fly…I fly…I…fly**_**…weeeeeeeeeeeeeeee." **

**Please review and let me know how you feel, what you think or if you can find my bunnies...Thanks!**


	28. Chapter 28

_**It's been a while. And for the past few months I've wondered if I would ever get back to this story. At first I was really **__**gung-ho and the words came out so fast and I was so very proud to finally be writing out one of my many "stories". To actually publish them took more bravery than I thought I had, but the kind words and encouragement I received both thrilled and emboldened me. And Spindle...well that femme really had a life of her own...for a while. Right now I'm stuck. The fire has dwindled and the keyboard and monitor just stare back at me as blank as I feel. I have more excuses than Carter has liver pills (those of an age understand this phrase). **_

_**I am much obliged to those of you who have favorited the story, who have put me on their watch lists and who has left wonderful reviews. Should you read this next chapter, please think kind thoughts my way and thank-you!**_

_**Thanks to Andromeda Prime, Ice and Fire Dragon, Netvolts, Teddy-wabbitz, kellyviolinthebest, Exactlywhat, gender-bender-lover-101, ironaft, Forever Dreaming Grace, Botosphere, Phoenix 13, Suzy Prime, Black_Oracle, MorePrimeLand, and many others who have read and favorited my other stories too...Thank-you All! You are real treasures.**_

_**I may have sent this chapter out a bit too soon...I must learn to write down in hard copy just how to upload and publish stories. I apologize for taking up too much room in your e-mail accounts. On with the tale...**_

**Chapter 26: Discovered**

"Man…don't go over there without back-up." Aaron whispered to his partner as Tom began to creep closer to the mound of rubble.

"I got back-up…you." his voice replying softly from his half turned face.

"That's what I thought you'd say.

"Good, now shut it and follow me. Something's in there…I want to know what it is before we go botherin' the Bots." came the excited whisper.

Furst only rolled his eyes, but followed his partner, sweeping his eyes around the area to better provide cover if it was needed. Only now was he beginning to feel the adrenaline-rush from battle seep away and replaced by chills from the breeze blowing over his sweat-soaked body, pain from the many scrapes and tumbles he took during the battle and brief waves of fatigue that were beginning to sweep throughout his whole being.

"Mmmmmumfff…hhhheeeuuuullllp..mmmuh…"

The muffled noise brought both young men up short. Battle-tested reflexes, honed from years training, replaced their natural curiosity as they placed themselves back to back scanning the area for hostiles.

"T?"

"Yeah A?"

"Think it's a 'Con?"

"Could be, you?"

"Yeah…could be." Both young men began to pick their way carefully towards the sound. Standard procedure would

"Mmmmm…hhheh…hehhh…ppp…mmmm…" The voice was soft, weak, hurt.

"Sounds like it might not last the day." Aaron postulated. "Could be a trap."

"Dunno." Elting murmured. "Look at the pile of rock. If there's any space between those two slabs it's got be small."

Both men stared at the remains of the landslide of limestone blocks; some first removed by the gestalt Devestator, others by a jet-powered Optimus when he flew through the sun harvester. One was lying on its long side while the other had tipped itself end over end, and stopping only when one end slammed into the first block. They formed a stony lean-to surrounded by a multitude of rocky detritus and harvester parts. If any thing was inside, it was either very small of nearly flattened. Neither knew which.

Tom looked at his partner, his face a mask of resignation and pulled his flashlight from a cargo pocket. Flicking it on, he attached it just above the sight of his rifle and approached the unknown voice.

…it's a…it's…a…

Darkness greeted Spindle as she fought to regain some control of her processor and memory files. She so wanted to scream, so wanted to vent her anger loudly, excessively and not stop until all that came out was static.

But she could not; it hurt too much. A downed block had caught her in her fall and her right shoulder and arm were wedged into an impossibly small gap under it. The other block rested above her, its edge just over the other block by millimeters. At any time one or the other could slip and she would then be able to join her beloved sparkling in the Well of All-Sparks. She was actually considering ways to make one or the other move, but even processing hurt. The dust and debris clogged her filters and vents and energon and vital fluids leaked from the many line breaks. The area supposedly healed by the Fallen began to burn and she felt the armor in that area begin to crack and blister. Her spark hurt…it flared.

,,,uuuuuuuuuphhhhh…Her optics flickered off and her vocals began to sieze. Was the casing finally cracking; were her chest plates impinging on its connections; would she give up her spark soon?

_*Sunstar…I come…soon.* _her spark flared again causing more pain and locking out access to the chamber. Her chest plates locked down, just as they had done when she was hunting on Cybertron with a booby-trapped spark chamber.

_*NO!* _her processor shouted. Her mouth only let out a string of unintelligible sounds in the dark stillness. And then movement outside her resting place caused a cascade of rock to further bury her frame in what may be her grave.

She tried to shout "Help me…please, help me…" but only rough sounds came from the damaged vocals.

A beam of light shot into the narrow cleft and she shuttered her optics in pain.

Again she tried to communicate with whoever was there…


End file.
